From the Shards of Crystals and Magic Engines
by Urza3142
Summary: A monstrous enemy bearing annihilation. A people long complacent now yearning to be free. An arms race that threatens to engulf all those it touches. And at the center of it all is the 501st. Welcome to Korea, an Island in chaos. (AU Korean War) (Rated T for Violence and Mature language)
1. Chapter 1

**Arrival**

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 **Kimpo Air Base, Korea**

 **July 27th, 1947**

 **One Year into the War in Korea**

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When Shirley had heard that the 501st JFW was to be reactivated and deployed to Korea, she had prepared for jungles, exotic animals, and hot, rainy days. She had not expected the breeze of cool air that flowed over and soothed her. As the C-47 that brought them took off, there was a moment of brief silence as she took in all her surroundings.

The breeze that had greeted Shirley was gone, and soon the muggy, humid summer air flooded over her. The Sun, with its bathing light, became a source of discomfort as the humidity amplified its effects. The grass, unconcerned about such matters, fluttered softly in the wind as the sound of distant aircraft engines faded into the background. A flag, bearing the symbol of the United States of Liberion, fluttered from its flagpole.

"It's so humid!" Luchini cried, obviously unprepared for the change in weather. She and Shirley had spent quite a bit of time in Romagna and Venezia since the 501st were disbanded. While the two remained on call for the occasional summons of the Mediterranean and African Theatres, Shirley and Lucchini had largely spent their time exploring, visiting sights and monuments, and eating. When the war in Europe was finally concluded by the liberation of Ostmark, Shirley had made plans to visit Miyafuji in Fuso.

"It reminds me of Washington D.C. in the summer…" Shirley said absentmindedly, while memories flashed before her eyes. Buildings, covered in white and shaped like Greek temples. Parades, full of flags, energy, and weapons of war. The podium, and the speech that changed life in Liberion forever. Washington... The Capital. Strange that I can still remember that school trip… she thought to herself before Luchini startled her out of her dreams.

"Shirley, what's wrong?" Luchini's voice struck Shirley like a dart, and when she gazed downward Luchini was giving her the eyes. The eyes that communicated a mix of curiosity, worry, and compassion.

"Oh, nothing…" Shirley responded with a smile. "Just some memories of Liberion.. You wouldn't believe how hot it can get during those late July months."

"If it's anything close to this, I think I'll pass," Said a voice. This one felt familiar, and invoked a set of new images. Britannia. Romagna. The Neuroi. And most importantly, her sisters.

Turning around, Shirley saw the woman who had called out to her. The woman who for two weeks put her through the toughest training regime she had ever had. The woman who personally called the two to inform them of their summons. The woman whose penchant for training is only matched by the care she showed to her comrades. The woman who was one of the few people on the planet that Shirley felt comfortable taking orders from.

"After all, I'd rather be fighting Neuroi than showing conscripts how to shoot a gun," The woman said as she let loose her trademark laugh. Looking at the senior woman, Shirley noticed that despite her age, Mio didn't look that different from the day she had met her. Her brown eyes still brimmed with the cheerfulness that made her adored by everyone (especially Perrine). Mio's sweeping brown hair and smooth, fresh face illuminated the female grace beneath her occupation. A white naval coat, with it's rigid, organized form, reflected her belief in the importance of military discipline. Her sword, mounted in its sheath, indicated her devotion to Fuso's warrior tradition. The only thing missing from the veteran witch was her eye patch. Since Mio's magic power had long been depleted, she no longer had to cover her magic eye. Though it was only one piece of Mio Sakamoto, she didn't seem complete without it.

"Major Sakamoto, it's great to see you," Shirley said with warmth. Indeed, it truly felt good to be back with old friends.

"Please, call me Sakamoto-san. We've known each other long enough," Mio said, still radiating that cheerfulness that made her such an agreeable person.

"Sakamoto-san, how is Yoshika?" Luchini asked, showing those eyes again.

"She's been doing exceptionally well. I think you two will be delighted to hear that she was recently promoted to Master Sergeant," Mio responded with mirth in her words.

"Oh that's wonderful! They should have done that a while ago, if you ask me," Shirley said, placing her hand on her hip. Yoshika Miyafuiji, despite being one of the most powerful witches known to mankind, had a penchant for disobeying direct orders and violating military procedures that prevented her from being promoted. She was just as bad as Shirley, though in a far different way. Yoshika's disobedience stemmed from her faith in people and her ability to help them. She would disregard every order, every law, and every reasonable standard if it allowed her to save someone, anyone. While this trait can cause Yoshika to act anywhere between blindley innocent and recklessly suicidal, this was also her best quality.

"I'm sure Lynn will be happy to be the same rank as Yosika again," Luchini said with a twirl.

"Well, I'm sure you can ask her all about it once we get you squared away at headquarters. There's a lot to do, and not much time to do it," Mio said with seriousness.

Luchini and Shirley stood there for a moment, stunned. They had been told by the Major herself that only Mio and them were being deployed.

"Did… did you just say Lynn is here?!" Luchini exclaimed with disbelief.

"I thought that it was only going to be the three of us…" Shirley added, just as confused.

The Major looked at them with a surprised expression for a moment. Than she smiled to herself, and let loose another of her special laughs. Luchini and Shirley continued to look at her dumbfounded while they waited for her to stop laughing.

As Mio recovered from her laughing fit, she straightened her back and grew taller.

"I guess nobody told you then…" She said thoughtfully before giving them a broad smile.

"Welcome back to the 501st, sisters."

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On January 26, 1946, the Allied military passed a universal declaration. It was decided that the experience and talent of retired witches would not go to waste (after considerable effort from Adolfine Galland, Erwin Rommel, and other military figures). All witches past the age of 20 would be able to apply for positions in the command and support infrastructures of their respective air forces. Additionally, any Joint Fighter Wings with combat-able witches would have their retired witches attached to them upon request until service is no longer required. This declaration was signed into law with the passing of the Witches Rights bill in the League of Nations.

When the 501st was first deployed to Korea, most of the core older veterans were past the age of retirement. Of the original 11 witches, only 7 remained combat-worthy. The rest were serving various support, advisory, and command functions as a result of League's passing of the Witches Rights bill. Although they were all somewhat disappointed at the prospect of being confined to desk jobs, most were content with being able to stay with their squadron, which had become something of a family to them.

What they didn't know was that combat, with all its glory and horror, would find them, one way or another.

Members of the 501st at the start of the conflict:

Mio Sakamoto, 22 (August 26, 1924)

Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke, 22 (March 11, 1925)

Gertrud Barkhorn, 21 (March 22, 1926)

Charlotte E. Yeager, 20 (February 13, 1927)

Erica Hartmann, 19 (April 19, 1928)

Eila Illmatar Juutilainen, 18 (February 21st, 1929)

Perrine H. Clostermann, 18 (February 28th, 1929)

Lynette Bishop, 17 (June 11, 1929)

Yoshika Miyafuji, 17 (August 18, 1929)

Sanya V. Litvyak, 16 (August 18, 1930)

Francesca Lucchini, 15 (December 24, 1931)


	2. Chapter 2

**Contact**

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 **80 kilometers south of the 38th parallel, Korea**

 **July 24th, 1947**

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"It is in the moments leading up to combat that one can truly appreciate peace." That is what Edytha Roßmann had told Hartmann long, long ago. Even though Erica respected the aging Edytha highly, she still disregarded this piece of knowledge for most of her life. It was only now, at the end of her career, that she was finally beginning to understand.

Peace. Though it can be said that Erica had never known true "peace", she could feel it in moments like these. Fleeting moments of a world unburdened by Neuroi and warplanes alike.

As Erica closed her eyes, she could feel herself aligning to her surroundings. The sky was quiet, only the wind could be heard. She could feel the clouds swirling around her as she rose ever upward into the bright blue sky. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled smoothly. Her mind emptied of any burdens it had been carrying, and a distinctive trance of stillness occurred. Zen.

Her mind now purified, she pulled herself higher into the sky. The cool air felt good against her skin as she pulled up above the clouds. She could feel a sense of anticipation, as if the Heavens were just in reach. _Just a little more…_

"Hartmann, I'm approaching the rendezvous point. What's your current status?" Barkhorn's harsh voice cut in. She looked down, and couldn't see anything due to the clouds that surrounded her. With a sigh, she turned and dipped below the cloud cover again. As Erica dropped below the clouds, she came face to face with a Flak-Wulf 190 F-8 coming straight at her.

It only took a second for Erica to realize what was happening before she veered to the right and the Fw-190 peeled to the left. Erica could feel the sheer force of the plane's movements as it slipped by her. Separated by mere inches from the harsh metal wings of the warplane, a strange sensation passed over her. Than it was gone as the plane continued on its way, taking with it that momentary excitement. Letting out a sigh of relief, Erica watched the plane continue to loop back around through the sky.

"HARTMANNN!" a loud voice screamed into her comm. _Oh boy…_ Erica thought to herself while preparing for the onslaught that was about to occur.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!? YOU ALMOST KILLED US BOTH!"

"Calm down Trude. Both of us were able to evade each other."

"THAT IS NO EXCUSE FOR A SOLDIER OF THE KARSLAND! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REMIND YOU TO STAY FOCUSED ON THE MISSION!" Erica could feel the anger seething from her partner. To others, it wasn't clear if she was her wingman or her supervisor. The truth lay somewhere between the two.

"Come on Trude, I was just getting some fresh air. It gets lonely up here waiting for you, you know." Erica said nonchalantly as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the clouds.

Erica could hear Barkhorn sigh as she brought her plane into formation next to her. "We can't afford to become complacent, Hartmann. Though Karsland may be free, we still have a job to do. The situation here is much different from Europa."

"Trude, we've been on 10 sorties since we've arrived in Korea and I haven't seen one aerial Neuroi. Why can't I just go back to base?" A letter from Neu Karsland had just arrived, and Erica desperately wanted to get back and review its content. That, and the fact that she knew such requests irked Captain Gertrude Barkhorn to no end.

"How dare you! And you call yourself a soldier of the Karsland!" Barkhorn replied as Erica readied herself for another one of Barkhorn's lectures. "A true soldier does not complain about her duties, nor does she falter from responsibility! Procedures are followed to the letter, orders are carried out without doubts, and rules are enforced without hesitation. It is only then can the military achieve its goals with the utmost…."

Erica had long ago learned the skill of blocking out Barkhorn's monotonous voice. It came in handy in situations like this. While most people would get irritated by Barkhorn's constant badgering, it was par for the course for Erica. In fact, it is the times when Barkhorn didn't lecture Erica that she knew something was wrong with her strict, disciplined friend.

"... Discipline should come above all others. Every pilot should take the utmost care to preserve their skills, equipment, health, and behavior…"

Ever since Barkhorn had lost her magical shield and became integrated into the support staff of the 501st, Wing Commander Minna had been pairing the two of them together for missions in an effort to test whether combat-ineffective witches could still fight in conventional aircraft alongside their younger wingmen. So far they had completed 10 missions—the majority of them Combat Air Patrols—and hadn't run into a single Neuroi yet. Erica was beginning to wonder whether they were really needed here at all. Maybe this was all just a publicity stunt to show off the Witches Rights Bill in practice…

"... and that is why discipline matters more here in Korea than in any conflict we've fought in so far. In fact I'd go as far to say as…"

The sudden crackling of the radio startled both of them. As Barkhorn stopped her lecture and Erica snapped out of her trance. Both of them waiting for the incoming transmission.

"Hello ladies. How goes the patrol?" Anyone who had been attached to the 501st could recognize Colonel Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke's voice in a heartbeat. It was gentle yet assertive, commanding respect yet also conferring compassion. Pilots hearing it for the first time will often say that it reminded them of their mothers. Yet this same voice, in an entirely different context, could put the fear of death into the most seasoned and experienced witches around. As Major Sakamoto Mio had put it: "Wing Commander Minna will show you more love and compassion than any other Wing Commander on the planet, but break her rules and she'll come down on you with more force than a True Reppuzan." *cue nervous laugh*

"Colonel Wilcke! We've just reached rendezvous point Delta and are proceeding to point Echo. No contacts as of yet." Barkhorn responded immediately.

"Minna, this is pointless! Why are we doing combat air patrols when there are no enemies around?" Hartmann whined.

"Because I thought you could use the fresh air, Hartmann." She said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well, if you wanted me to do that you could have just sent me to the training field." Hartmann said pensively.

"And what are the odds you would have actually done anything?" Minna asked, her words sticking in Hartmann like darts.

Barkhorn couldn't resist butting in. "Based on the Erica's previous combat performance, I'd say you have a better chance of convincing Perrine to stop following Sakamoto-san around than getting Erica to train on her own." She said with a grin.

"Come on Trude, that's mean…" Erica said as she flew up close to Barkhorn's plane and pressed her face to the cockpit.

"It's the truth." Barkhorn said while giving Erica a look that said _back off or I'll tell the Colonel about your little incident_. Pouting, Erica flew back and crossed her arms sulkily.

Meanwhile, both of them listened to Minna's soft laughter for a moment. "You both always seem to have fun whenever I send you two out together." She said, still recovering from the laughter.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I enjoy the company or I might just go crazy." Barkhorn replied less than enthusiastically.

You aren't the only one Erica thought to herself.

"Well, I'm glad you two are enjoying yourselves but you two still have a job to do. Oh, I almost forgot. Point Echo is right above the Imjin River. The Britannian 29th Infantry Brigade is currently defending the location. Why don't we run a little air-to-ground coordination exercise while we're there?

"That won't be a problem for us," Barkhorn responded. "Rrrright Hartmannnnn?" she said with clenched teeth.

Erica sighed. "Fine. We'll say hi and play with our radios for a bit."

"And remember, try to act official. You're representing the entire 501st here." Minna said before the transmission ended.

Barkhorn smiled. "You heard the Colonel. Let's give these boys a hearty Karsland welcome." She said as she started to drop altitude.

"Yeah, yeah. Just make it quick." Erica said with disappointment. _I guess I'll have to wait a little longer. At least I get to be with Trudie, she thought to herself as she descended from the clouds._

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 **40 kilometers to Rendezvous Point Echo**

 **25 minutes later**

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"Lima-9, this is Bravo-501. Do you copy? Over."

*radio static*

"Apparently, this "Lima-9" didn't pay enough attention in his Radio Telephone Operator (RTO) course." Barkhorn said angrily as she kept adjusting the frequency.

"Maybe they're busy with something else at the moment." Hartmann mentioned, knowing full well the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

Ignoring her, Barkhorn continued to work the radio. Work, you worthless piece of...

"Th — is —ima-9 — — —..." The radio suddenly came to life, though the transmission was garbled and incomplete.

"W— — —der he— — — — … need — — su— — … —ver," The voice was a male's, and from the few words that came through he was panicking.

Barkhorn grabbed the intercom, almost crushing it with her hands. "This is Captain Barkhorn of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. What is your status? Over."

"—horn? — — not app — … under hea— — — … —lling back to — — — …" Only garbled messages could get through, but from the sounds of gunfire in the background, they were under some kind of attack.

"Hold on Lima-9. We're coming to assist." Barkhorn said as she looked over to Erica. You know what to do.

Erica nodded back and climbed up and out of sight. Barkhorn pointed her plane downward and broke into a dive.

"—ative! Do not — — — … cl— — —oi. This one's — — — … Do not eng—! I repeat, do not — — —." The radio transmission ended there.

 _Connection dropped? Huh. I guess I'll just have to fly over myself,_ Barkhorn thought as she dropped below 2000 meters. The closer she got to the ground, the more smoke and explosions she could see. _This doesn't look to good_ … she thought to herself as she leveled the plane out and grabbed a pair of binoculars.

Looking through the magnifying lenses, she could see the chaos below. The Britannian forces were being steadily pushed back by waves upon waves of small ground-type Neuroi. The Britannians were trying their best, but if they didn't get some immediate assistance, they would soon be overwhelmed.

Putting away the binoculars, Barkhorn activated her radio. "Erica, radio back to base that the 29th is under heavy attack by the Neuroi. I'm going in."

"Jawohl, Hauptmann." Erica responded in Karlsandian as she climbed even higher to escape the low cloud banks.

Meanwhile, Barkhorn had pulled her plane up to 2000 meters before lining herself up for a dive. Angling herself to be perpendicular to the Britannian positions, she mentally selected a target position at the center of the Neuroi formation. Then, she gave the stick a pull to the left and rolled into a dive.

 _Let's go!_ Barkhorn screamed as her speed gauge kept climbing. 425 … 460 … 495 … 545. The machine began to shudder, but Hartmann wasn't concerned. These things had been built with ruggedness in mind, and she knew for a fact that the Fw 190 A-8 could go up to a maximum of 656 km/h. The F-8 shouldn't be that different. Granted, those were the specifications of the machine _before_ she had loaded up 4 50 kilos and a 250 onto the plane. Lucky for her, she wouldn't have to worry about lugging those things around for much longer.

As her plane screamed toward the ground, Barkhorn kept her steel grasp on the pilot's stick. She could feel the forces of gravity pulling her ever more quickly towards the center of the Earth. The ground rushed towards her, reaching out for its deadly reunion. Barkhorn's hand instinctively gripped the bomb release as she eyed the altimeter with intensity. 1500 … 1200 … 950 … the gauge kept dropping. _Almost there_ … she thought as her body involuntarily tensed up. _Wait for it_ … she thought as the number slipped past 700. _NOW!_

In one fluid motion Barkhorn yanked the bomb release. As she could hear the clamps come loose and the bombs whistle as they flew towards their target, the plane seemed to become much lighter almost instantaneously. Her hands then flew to the stick as she pulled backwards on it with all her strength.

Though the plane groaned and strained, Barkhorn succeeded in getting its nose to point upward. As the energy built up during the dive was thrown into a new direction, the Fw 190 flew past the Britannians fighting below almost as quickly as it came.

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*Crack* *Crack* *Blam* The distinctive sound of the Britannian standard-issue Webley revolver could be heard by many over the mass of rifle shots and automatic fire erupting all across the British lines. Yet Second Lieutenant Dale Hackett's focus was not on the sound, nor the bullet he just fired. It was on his target.

The Neuroi walker he had aimed at stumbled backwards as the bullet struck what appeared to be it's forehead. The projectile had torn off a good chunk of the material from the top, but the thing was still active. It would need another shot before it was finished. And Dale intended to deliver it.

His second shot, more precise than his first, pierced cleanly through it's center mass. As the neuroi dropped to the ground, it's legs flailing around, it's skin started to disintegrate. Soon, it faded into nothing as the flakes it split into disintegrated. It would have made a pretty sight if it wasn't for the three other Neuroi who stepped over the disappearing body of their deceased comrade to continue their assault against the humans.

Sighing, Dale crouched behind the sandbag position he was taking cover behind as a hail of lasers flew over his head. To his left, a soldier with a medical insignia on his shoulder was tending to a man with a bloody bandage on his hip. To his right lay the body of his Commanding officer, who had been promoted less than a week ago. His face, which just a few days ago had been the receiving end of Dale's fist, now stared upward in an unearthly gaze. His chest had a gaping hole in it, which despite its severity wasn't bleeding at all. _That's the strange thing about Neuroi beams, I suppose._ Dale thought to himself. _They literally cauterize any wound they inflict on their enemy._

Turning his thoughts away from the deceased First Lieutenant, he watched the desperate fight between his platoon and the Neuroi unfold. Dozens of Neuroi were dropping every second to the deadly accurate fire of the Britannian riflemen, but it didn't seem to affect the swarm at all.

If things kept up like this, they would soon be overrun. Yet they couldn't just give up their positions. If they pulled back now, the Neuroi would hit the rest of the battalion before they had a chance to dig in. If that happened, than the Neuroi would have a straight shot to Seoul. All of Korea could fall within days. _I can't let that happen. Even if this platoon is wiped out in the process, we have to hold!_

As the laser fire coming from the Neuroi intensified, Lieutenant Hackett saw more of his men falling to the ground. The Neuroi were almost on top of them, and there weren't going to be many Britannians left alive to stop them at this rate. Swinging the chamber of his revolver open, he looked at the bullets it carried. _Four left? I guess that's good enough for a final stand._ He thought as he swung the chamber shut and prepared for his eventual fate. _I guess I'll never get the chance to see my son after all._

"REINFORCEMENTS! THE REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!" someone shouted. As if one queue, one lone German fighter screamed through the sky, gone as soon as it came. Before anyone had time to wonder what was going on, the ground in front of them erupted. Hails of red and yellow flames shot up from all directions. Ears were split and eyes blinded. By the time the explosions were gone and the men had recovered enough to see again, only the shattered remains of the neuroi force were left. White particles, fragments of the once deadly war machines, covered the ground like snow.

"HURRAH!" Everyone at the Britannian position gave a mighty cheer. Then they let loose a massive volley of fire that wiped out any of the Neuroi that tried to regenerate. As soldiers and medics ran back and forth, treating the wounded and recovering the dead, a calm descended onto the battlefield. Dale breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped his revolver to the ground and collapsed in exhaustion. _Looks like I'm coming home, Lora. Sorry to kept you waiting..._ He thought with a smile before his vision started to fail. The last thing Dale heard was the distant drone of an airplane's engine, fading into the background. Then he passed out into a world of darkness.

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Barkhorn did not get a chance to look over her shoulder at the carnage she had wrought. Her hands were full keeping the plane steady and pointed upward as it recovered from the dive. It took a bit of wrestling with the metal beast, but Barkhorn managed to get the plane to stop shaking and bucking as it slowed to cruising speed.

Taking a deep breath, Barkhorn relaxed her arms and loosened her grip on the pilot's stick a little. Dive Bombing was always dangerous, but cloudy days like these are by far the most hazardous. Pull up to early and you risk missing the target altogether. Pull up too late and you can either smash into the ground or get blown out of the air by your own bombs. _I don't think any amount of training can really prepare someone for low-visibility dive bombing,_ Barkhorn thought as she reviewed her performance.

Once she had finished her cursory review, she checked her fuel gauge. _Looks like I've got about 30 minutes of fuel left. That's more than enough to get home._ She thought with satisfaction. Barkhorn then put her plane in a gradual climb as she headed for "home".

Just thinking about the word pulled up all sorts of painful images. East Prussia. Snow. A brick apartment. Fire. Great clouds of Smoke. A city left in smoldering ruins. And perhaps most painfully, Chris' frightened face. _Why is all this coming now?_ Barkhorn thought angrily. _I put this behind me years ago…_ Desperate to distract herself, Barkhorn scanned the skies. When she failed to find anything of interest, Barkhorn began to grow frantic at the possibility of being left alone with these recurring memories.

All of a sudden, she remembered that she had shut her radio off in preparation for the dive earlier. Switching it back on, she breathed a sigh of relief. _At least Hartmann's nagging will keep me sufficiently occupied_ she thought before adjusting the frequency to the one she and Hartmann used.

"Hartmann, this is Barkhorn. I've completed my dive and I am heading back to base. What's your status?"

*Static*

 _Weird. Even a slacker like Hartmann knows how to keep radio discipline_ Barkhorn thought as she keyed in the frequency for Kimpo Air Base, Joint Fighter Wing Command.

"Kimpo Air Base, this is Barkhorn. I've completed my sortie and I am en route to the base. ETA 20 minutes."

"Roger, we'll have the ground crews on standby." The male flight controller had a Liberion accent. It reminded Barkhorn of the way Shirley used to speak.

"Kimpo Air Base, I lost contact with my wingman soon after completing my attack. What is Lieutenant Hartmann's last known position?"

"Major, Lieutenant Barkhorn radioed in that she had spotted two neuroi medium fliers over point Echo. She said that they were moving in to engage her. That was the last we've heard from her."

"Kimpo, inform Commander Wilcke that she needs to contact me as soon as possible."

"Uh.. Roger ma'am. I'll get the Colonel onto this channel as soon as possible."

"Good, I'm counting on you. I'll probably call for support once I get a good view on the target." Barkhorn said as she pulled the fw190 into a 180° turn.

"Wait, Major. Where are you going?"

"To the enemy." Barkhorn said as she gunned it for point Echo.

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While there had already been evidence that the Neuroi were far more adaptable than previously thought, the Korean conflict presented a whole new level of behavior and structural changes. Units that had been trained to fight packs of heavy ground neuroi, like those often encountered in Europe, suddenly found themselves under assault from swarms of smaller, dog-sized walkers.

Later designated as small type walkers, these were the Neuroi's most numerous combat type in Korea. Each walker was an autonomous unit, almost like a simplified, less powerful version of the heavy types. They could move, or "trot", as some troops have described it, at 25 km/hr for long periods of time. Each came with its own core as well as a forward facing laser. Though not as powerful as their larger cousins, a single shot could easily tear through a person's body. In groups, these walkers could also melt through steel with ease, posing a threat to armored units at close range. The most critical aspect of the walkers, however, is their creation cost. Containing only 1/8th of the mass of the heavier walkers, these things are likely produced at a much faster rate than medium and large type ground units. This means that any victories over these walkers will have very little impact on the war, as they are essentially disposable.

Although they are easy prey for witches (or just about anything with enough firepower) they have proven surprisingly dangerous when underestimated. Their presence alone has forced ground forces to divert resources that would have been otherwise been used on anti-armor solutions. It is likely the Neuroi also use them as scouts of a kind, as these things will often make probing attacks on entrenched positions and exposed units. If the aliens are certain of the target, this is usually followed with a heavier assault that utilizes larger types with aerial support.

In the beginning stages of the Korean operation, these units proved uniquely troublesome. A good example is what happened to the 73rd Heavy Tank Battalion. They were conducting a routine sweep of a rural village with their Liberion issue M26 Pershing tanks and a few of the attached infantry units. The area had lots of trees and bushes, with several village houses scattered around a center point. The commander ordered a routine sweep, and the infantry advanced behind the Pershings as they spread out to cover more ground.

Suddenly, the tank furthest to the left was attacked by several dozen of the small ground units. Before the crew could react, the Neuroi closed the distance and melted through the tank, disabling it and setting the tank on fire. At the same time, another pack of them wrapped around the back side of the column, focusing on the infantry. In 7 minutes, the 73rd had lost 7 out of their 10 tanks and suffered 63 fatalities. The remains of the battalion managed to kill off the Neuroi, but later wrote off four of the disabled tanks and was declared combat ineffective.

While certainly dangerous in ambushes or surprise attacks, the small types have several weaknesses. Due to their low mass and relatively weak armor, they are particularly vulnerable to high explosives. Artillery fire, tank shells, bombs, and autocannons can easily wipe out large formations very quickly. Additionally, the lasers used by the walkers are relatively inaccurate. In order to be effective , the small types have to close to within 80 meters. This gives most human units plenty of time to pick them off from range. Finally, they do not have any weapons on their sides or rear. They can only fire at whatever they are frontally facing.

There are three ways to combat small type Neuroi. One is to fight them at long range, picking them off as they try to close the distance. This is highly dependent on the terrain of a given area, but it also presents the least danger to the soldiers fighting. Karslandian infantry are particularly well suited to this kind of fighting. Utilizing some of the most advanced small arms on the planet, an entrenched Karslandian position is nearly unassailable by small types alone.

Another method is to create kill zones using interlocking fields of fire. Less reliant on terrain, this method often uses pre-established fortifications to keep soldiers alive and firing. Liberion forces are known to employ this tactic quite often. Their flexible squad sizes, as well as the high density of semi and fully automatic weaponry, allowed them to cover larger areas than their Britannian or Fusoan counterparts. Traditional infantry formations — such as those used by the Orussian and Fusoan militaries — can also utilize this tactic. Without support, however, they run the risk of taking heavy casualties.

The last, and perhaps the most risky, is to close the distance to hand-to-hand combat. This is often accomplished through the use of either smoke or dense foliage. Because the Neuroi can only fire towards what is in front of them, a trained soldier can easily disable and eliminate them with just a bayonet and their fists. Submachine guns can also allow a single soldier to eliminate several walkers extremely quickly. Fusoan soldiers are particularly fond of this tactic, as it allows them to emulate their samurai ancestors.

Some experts, especially those who are well versed in the history of the Neuroi, say that the appearance of these small Neuroi are mentioned in an ancient prophecy written in several Mayan temples. Scholars from the Mayan Federation of Liberion's research center have theorized that the new types are an attempt by the Neuroi to rediscover their animistic roots. While this theory had yet to be proven, nobody doubts that these creatures are the symptom of change within the Neuroi Swarm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Splash 3**

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Between the rugged peaks and sloping hills of the Korean countryside, great patches of vegetation stretch beyond the sight of human eyes. These grasslands and plains contain most of the Korean wildlife found on the peninsula. Farm fields and villages dot the landscape, while fields of rice plants spread over the rolling hills. Scattered trees, temperate weather, and gradual slopes makes this the perfect landscape for human development. It is these areas that the Allied Forces fight to protect, and that the Neuroi seem to be drawn to.

In a quiet village, a farmer guides his ox down a dirt road. Behind the beast, a cart filled with farmers tools plows through the mud. Coming back from a day in town, the farmer struggles as he walks through the soft earth. The rainy month was coming to a close, and soon he would have to go out to his fields to weed his crops. A farmer's job is never truly over. At least the Ji family, his employers, were rather merciful when it came to quotas.

His thoughts then turned to the dinner and his kids waiting for him back home. A good meal and the curious demeanor of his children always put a smile on the farmer's face. With a sore back and his muscles tired out, he's more than ready to wind down the day. It is in this stage of exhaustion that three objects rapidly approach the farmer from behind.

All of a sudden, the farmer is thrown to the ground as a loud boom filled the sky. When he came to, all the farmer could hear was the distant whine of aircraft engines and his ox snorting in fright. Looking up, three dots flew into the distance very close to the ground. Laser fire lit up the sky in a series of flashes, and one of the dots fell to the ground. As the figure vanished from the horizon, a small flash appeared on the horizon. The two remaining figures disappeared into the clouds, and a quiet aura descended on the farming community.

Sighing, the farmer put a hand to his ox's muzzle. The ox gradually stopped snorting and returned to it's peaceful state. The farmer smiled inwardly as he felt the warm skin of his helpful partner. Looking at the cart the beast had been carrying, he was dismayed to see his tools scattered across the road. With a groan, the tired farmer walked back to pick the tools from the soft mud. At least he would have a good story to tell over dinner.

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 **July 24th, 1947**

 **20 Minutes Earlier, Near Rendezvous Point Echo**

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Altitude. A fighter pilot can't get enough of it. Whoever held the altitude advantage also held the speed advantage, as well as superior energy potential. A pilot who sits at a higher elevation than his opponent will inevitably go faster, something critical for striking an enemy quickly and escaping the range of their weapons. And since the easiest way to deal with a neuroi is through such boom and zoom tactics, the altitude advantage evolved from a preference to a necessity. Any pilot who has been through training knows this. The Royal Flying Corps, a Britannian fighter group from the First Neuroi War, had a mantra that reflected this well: "Never from below, seldom from the same height, always from above".

As such, when Barkhorn gave her the improvised signal, Erica's first reaction was to climb. Years of combat experience and endless observations and lectures from her superiors had drilled in the basics of dogfighting and aerial combat. Even if she seems lazy and undisciplined to others, Erica knew better than to dispute something that had and would continue to save her skin. Even humanity's top ace knew what it felt like to be shot down.

Erica watched the clouds swirl around her as she rose even higher into the sky. The air began to get cooler as she leveled out at about 6,000 meters. Her breathing slowed as the calmness of the sky seeped in and refreshed her. While Erica enjoyed flying with Trude, sometimes she felt that it was only up here in places like this that Erica could truly relax. Two or three years ago she would have been jumping at the bit to fight the Neuroi. Now, as she was on the cusp of losing her magical abilities, she simply wanted to enjoy moments like these for all their worth.

Barkhorn and Minna didn't talk much about how it felt to lose the ability to fly as a combat witch, but from what Erica gathered the impact seemed to be devastating. Erica could remember the moment Minna had lost the strength of her shield. She tried to keep a calm face, but Erica could see through her mask. Minna had been crushed. Erica could tell she was on the verge of crying. The image of Minna at that moment would forever be implanted in Erica's memory.

The day after she had been declared combat-ineffective, Minna took two weeks of vacation. Nobody except Sakamoto knew what happened to her during those two weeks, but when she came back she was more or less back to normal. When asked about the vacation, she simply said that she needed time to find her path. Though Erica worried about her, she had faith in her strength of character.

Barkhorn's reaction was much more overt. She trained harder and harder in her last year of service. The base doctor began to be seriously concerned with the exhaustion she was causing to herself. Her attitude became even more frustrated and focused than before. She began to lash out when she could feel her abilities failing. Things started to get worse and worse as she approached her 20th birthday. Barkhorn was fighting almost constantly for miniscule reasons. Even Shirley was concerned about their usually perfectionist teammate.

Then, one week before she turned 20, she reverted back to normal. Her flight schedule became less frantic, her training routine slowed, and she began to converse normally again. The only peculiar behavior that remained was her unscheduled evening flights. Nobody knew what exactly happened, but Trude's answer is still the same: "As one of the most senior witches in Karlsand Air Force, I have an important responsibility. One that goes beyond simple combat. I must be a role model for the next generation of Karlandian soldiers and witches. I brought shame to myself and the Empire of Karlsand with my past behavior. I must now seek atonement." Erica suspected that Minna's example may have inspired her.

Suddenly, Erica's radio leapt to life. "Erica, radio back to base that the 29th is under heavy attack by the Neuroi. I'm going in."

Trude's voice shook Erica back to reality. Forcing a smile, she regained the cheerful attitude that her wingman were used to seeing. "Jawohl, Hauptmann." She responded in the most cheerful voice she could find. Then her mouth frowned as she tried to remember the frequency for Kimpo Air Base. Punching in random codes, she quickly began to grow frustrated at her inability to contact the base. If Trude had seen her at that moment, she probably would have said something along the lines of "Memory is simply part of discipline. How dare you call yourself a Karslandian soldier."

 _Well of course I'm not going to remember numbers like that. It's Trude's job to remember boring stuff,_ Erica thought as she continued to spin the knob back and forth, looking for some kind of chatter. Fusoan voices, Korean chatter, even a Gallian yelling at someone. But no Liberion flight controller. "Niiiii!" Erica whined in frustration.

"Having trouble with the radio, Frau?" Minna voice suddenly called from her headset. Gasping, Erica jerked back in surprise from the sudden intrusion. Hesitating for a moment, she quickly pressed the transmission button.

"How did you know?" Erica's voice gave out a little at the end of her sentence.

"This happens every time you fail to report in." Minna said, matching Hartmann herself in pure, unrefined smugness.

 _Oh yeah. This exact conversation happened last week too, didn't it,_ Erica thought as the she memories of a strikingly similar dialogue appeared in her clouded mind. _I really need to make a note to write down these frequencies somewhere_ , Erica thought to herself, confident that there was no way she was ever going to remember that.

"So, can I have the frequency for Kimpo Air Base, please?" Erica pleaded. If Minna could see her, she would have no doubt been entranced by Erica's puppy-like eyes. Or at least Erica hoped.

"How about you just give your report right now? We're doing a routine maintenance check on the radio equipment, so I'm up here in the control tower right now anyway." Minna said as her tone switched back to a more professional tick.

"Alright Minn— I mean Colonel Wilcke. Captain Barkhorn and I were 40 clicks from Rendezvous Point Echo when we received a radio transmission from one of the ground divisions. Convinced that there was a neuroi attack underway, the Captain dropped altitude to observe the situation while I climbed to prepare to defend her from attackers. She told me 2 minutes ago that the 29th was under heavy attack, and told me to report into headquarters that she was going to engage."

2 years ago, it would have been impossible to get Erica to talk like that. She hated the military voice. It's rigid, brittle, unwavering and uncompromising tone particularly bothered Erica, who prided herself at being free, loose, and flexible in life. For reasons that escaped her, however, she seemed to pick up on some of the more minor points of discipline and proper soldiering in the last two months since her 19th birthday. It was like her subconscious wanted to be respectable. No, perhaps not totally respectable, but at the very least seen as someone who could be responsible when they cared.

There was a pause at the other end. Erica could feel Minna's intense state of thought through the silence. "Understood. You are to hold position and provide overwatch for Bravo-501. Report any signs of hostiles, but you are clear to engage. Kimpo Out." Minna said abruptly before cutting the transmission. Keeping the intercom open in case she had to make an emergency broadcast, Erica began to observe her surroundings with greater focus.

5 minutes of mind-numbing searching yielded nothing. Erica was getting bored, and in war boredom can be a soldier's worst enemy. She considered counting the clouds above and below her to take away some of the monotone.

*Bzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmm

Erica's survival instincts kicked in and she put up her shield as she rolled quickly to the right. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a beam flying high above her. As the scarlet rays flashed in her peripheral vision, Erica's eyes scanned the skies for the source. After taking several moments to determine the angle the beam came in, she spotted two black dots at the edge of her vision. They were at least 6 kilometers away, far beyond what Neuroi are capable of firing at accurately. In fact, the only reason Erica could see them that far away was because they fired a beam wildly in her direction. _Why would a Neuroi alert me to their presence this far in advance? Even with the element of surprise, it is very difficult for a Neuroi to take down a witch, let alone a veteran like myself,_ she thought as she quickly activated her radio channel.

"Kimpo Air Base, this is Hotel-501. Two medium or large-class contacts spotted. Distance 6 kilometers. Heading south south-west."

Instead of Minna's voice, the crisp rasp of midwestern Liberion came onto the air. "Copy that, Hotel-501. You are clear to engage. Out."

Satisfied, Erica looked back to her targets. They had closed the distance between them very quickly. Now they were less than three kilometers away. Erica flipped the safety on her MG42 and brought it up against her shoulder. Strangely, her blonde hair stayed remarkably cooperative during times of stress and high wind speed. _One and a half_ _kilometers..._ She thought as her breathing started to rise.

At this range, she could see more than a dot. The two Neuroi she was fighting looked unlike anything she had encountered before. They were definitely medium sized, but their wings swept back at an angle, quite different from the usual medium class designs. The plane was built around a central body in the shape of a tube, with two funnel-shaped objects fit between its wings and the abdomen. At the rear of the plane, two angled wedges came extended upward from the rear most section of the plane, kind of like a tail.

 _No time to think. Just act._ Erica told herself as the two Neuroi entered her weapon range. Pressing the stock against her shoulder, Erica placed one of the enemies a little above her gun sight. Then she lightly squeezed the trigger for a split second before letting go. The gun kicked in her hand, but she kept it pointed at the target with her magically amplified strength.

A mess of orange tracers and various other lead projectiles were hurled towards the leftmost Neuroi. Before the bullets had reached the Neuroi, Erica could tell that she had missed. As the rounds passed harmlessly over their intended target, Erica was already lining up her second burst. She lifted her gun slightly to account for the movement of the two targets. As the three combatants closed to 500 meters from each other, she could see the tips of her two enemies start to glow red.

In response, Erica quickly brought up her shield before she let loose her next burst, but the little movement caused just enough shaking to skew her carefully placed shot. Only a few of the bullets hit the target's wing, with the rest glancing to the right. What few impacts that did hit the craft were insignificant, and were regenerated within seconds.

Before Erica reflect on her performance, she took a full blast from both of the Neuroi's frontal lasers. Though Erica was flying fast enough that she couldn't be shaken from her course, the blast definitely pushed back into her. In an instant, both parties had flown by each other, with the two Neuroi going much faster.

A year ago would have made that blast no problem for Erica. But as she aged, Erica's magic just wasn't as strong as it was when she was younger. Even a witch at her prime would have been caught off guard by one of those shots, and Erica had long passed her prime.

Thrown off by the force of the blast that had hit her, Erica took gentle, looping turn to regain her bearings and head back for another go. By the time she was heading back toward the engagement, the two Neuroi had completed their turns as well and were approaching head on once more.

Instead of trying to fight them head on, Erica concentrated on her shield. Though she fired a single burst at them, it was meant more as a distraction than anything else. As the two Neuroi closed to 500 again and prepared their powerful onslaught, Erica readied herself. The moment she saw their noses flash, she rolled to the right with all her energy focused onto her shield. Her plan worked, as she absorbed the shots handedly.

Now it was time to sink her teeth in. As the two Neuroi broke by her and peeled off into their long turns, Erica refocused her energy to her striker units as she pulled a full 180 degree twist. With a normal plane this would have been impossible, but being a witch with engines strapped to your legs provides some unusual benefits. While the two Neuroi were trying to get enough distance to pull the turn safely, Erica was right behind them.

As they broke off into their individual turns, oblivious to her presence, she turned tightly into one of the Neuroi craft. Erica let loose a full volley of machine gun fire into the exposed topside of the beast. As the gun jumped in her hands and its distinctive *bzzrrrr* sound filled her ears, Erica send forth a hail of destruction. She had to burn through her entire ammo supply, but she managed to shred the Neuroi all the way down to the core. As she lined up the finishing blow, a distinctive click told her she was out of ammo. Moving fluidly, she dropped the machine gun and pulled out a MP 40 submachine gun. With a quick burst, the beasts core was shattered and her enemy exploded into a hail of glittering fragments.

As Erica put up her shield and flew through the hail of fragments, she looked behind her to find his wingman following her. As the nose of her pursuer began to blow, she punched her engine with a sudden burst of magical energy and shot herself upwards. As her pursuer sent a deadly beam right into the spot she occupied a couple of seconds ago, Erica flipped herself over, punched her magic engine again, and pushed herself directly onto the black figure's six. The whole maneuver took less than 3 seconds, which is usually how long a Neuroi needed to use its weapons. _Works every time_. Erica thought as she lined the black figure in her gunsights.

Before she could get a solid burst off, however, the Neuroi dove as fast as it could go towards the ground. Determined not to let her prey escape, Erica followed as the two screamed downward from their high altitude. Two puffs of vapor appeared in the sky as they broke through the clouds. The Neuroi was going really fast now, and Erica was having trouble keeping up. As they neared the ground, Erica could feel the air ripping to shreds around her as she approached her maximum speed. She was pushing the striker unit to the limits of its capabilities. Her enemy was going to get away, and there was nothing she could do about it.

As if on cue, a third Neuroi burst from the cloud bank right behind Erica. As Erica began to swerve and maneuver to avoid the torrent of lasers coming from behind her, her prey pulled even further in front of her. As she looked in dismay as the Neuroi sped away from her, she was rudely reminded of the company on her six with a laser that burned a hole through the MP 40 she had held in her right hand. _I… am…. So done with you right now,_ She thought as she unleashed her magical ability _Sturm_. A wave of wind smashed into the Neuroi chasing her, knocking it straight into the ground.

As a small explosion lit up behind her, Erica followed the Neuroi she was chasing back into the clouds. By the time she had broken above them, the first Neuroi had put enough distance between them to circle around and come in for a head on attack. Erica flew towards it, preparing to activate her shields. _This again? I guess they don't learn after all_. She thought as she prepared her backup pistol. _Too easy._

 _Wait, too easy!?_ she thought as Edytha Roßmann's voice appeared back in her head. "If things are too easy, you've either pulled a trap off successfully, orr the enemy has lured you into theirs." Scanning frantically to her sides and rear, she spotted what looked to be certain doom. A fourth Neuroi had managed to sneak up on her while she was busy with the one she was chasing. It was less than one kilometer away and closing from her rear. _I've been trapped in a perfect pincer_ , she thought as the nose of the plane in front of her began to glow red.

Time seemed to slow down as Erica frantically put up her shield to stop the beams from the front. It took all her strength to hold the shield up and the bogey on her 6 was closing to weapon's range. There was nothing Erica could do but look behind her to see a menacing black craft with it's glowing red nose. As the craft made an incomprehensible noise, Erica resigned to her fate. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear a few thumps or an autocannon, as if someone was coming to rescue her. _Apparently I want to live badly enough that my mind is imagining things._

The Neuroi behind her exploded into a hail of white fragments as the space around it lit up with tracers and shells the size of a fist. Time slowed even more as she felt some of the particles embed themselves in her exposed back. "Frau!" someone screamed over the mic as a prop plane tore through the sky and passed right over Erica's head. _An Fw-190? Is that… Barkhorn?_ Erica's mind thought as she tried to process what had just happened. The first Neuroi, seeing itself outnumbered, bugged out to the north. Barkhorn tried all she could, but she could not keep up with that craft and was soon forced to turn back. The two headed back for the base, with Erica almost exhausted from the stressful dogfight.

"Frau, are you okay?" Barkhorn asked.

Normally, Erica would have been distraught over letting an enemy beat her like that so soundly. She was humanity's top ace, and if she couldn't beat these things than it was likely that no witch could. Her skills at dogfighting are, despite her age, still the best in the entire world, and her kill count is a testament to that.

Thinking back, however, Erica realized that she had been extremely lucky to get out of this situation without getting shot down. She had fought four unidentified and unknown enemies by herself, shot down two of them, and managed to escape an otherwise fatal trap. And despite the fact she was closing to the age of retirement, she had no trouble pulling off strenuous and difficult maneuvers without hurting herself. And perhaps most amazingly, she was able to push her striker units to 780 km/h without suffering any damage. All things considered, the forces that be had smiled upon her that day.

She turned to Barkhorn, who was still looking at her concerned from the cockpit of her plane. Erica put on her biggest grin possible and flashed a thumbs up. Barkhorn smiled a little at the sight as the two spent the rest of the trip home in exhausted, understanding silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Burden of Command**

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 **Kimpo Air Base**

 **July 24th, 1947**

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"Kimpo, this is Echo-591. Requesting permission to land."

"Permission granted. Welcome home. The maintenance and medical teams are on standby."

As Erica made her approach, the base was in chaos. Maintenance crews were running back and forth, assembling various striker units and moving parts around. An ambulance sat at one end of the runway surrounded by personnel frantically unloading equipment. On the other two runways, Shirley and Lucchini were being loaded and fueled by an array of service trucks. In the hanger itself, maintenance officials went from shelf to shelf in search of elusive papers and folders. The scene looked completely different from when Barkhorn and Erica had taken off, when half the base was still asleep.

Erika slowed as the distance between her and the ground shrunk. Compared to the altitude she was at earlier, the ground seemed within her reach. Erica almost felt like she could reach out and touch the soft mud laid across the hills. Her mind exhausted and her limbs even more so, Erica simply let herself glide as she vectored towards the landing lights. The smell of grass, flowers, and engine exhaust flooded her senses.

Just as her striker unit reached the ground, Erica's magic finally ran out. Every muscle that had been held firm suddenly gave way to the imposing weight of the striker unit. Collapsing mid air, Erica fell into the ground with a thud, going completely unconscious. Her machine gun sprawled across the floor and her striker unit gave one last spin before dying. Lying there on the runway, the last thing Erica saw was Shirley and Luchini running towards her as an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Then there was nothing.

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"There are several deep cuts that match the profile of fragmentation wounds in her back. These will require surgery. Other than that, she suffered no pain. Her magically enhanced fortitude seems to have shrugged off the impact of her fall."

"And mentally?"

"While we don't have anything concrete as of yet, it would appear that her collapse was due to simple exhaustion. If this is true, then she should be fine after a few days of rest."

"Good. I'm leaving her in your care, Doctor."

"I will do my best, Colonel. And one last thing."

"Yes?"

"I am aware of the patient's… unique reputation. I am also aware that military necessity must call for sacrifices. Regardless, I would advise against putting the Lieutenant back in combat. From a purely medical standpoint, she is past the age where she can regularly handle the stress of a striker unit without injuring herself."

"I'll take your words into consideration. Keep me updated on her status."

"Yes Ma'am."

As she stepped out of Erica's ward, Minna's composure fell to pieces. Placing a hand on the wall for balance, the emotions that she had bottled up since she had heard of Erica's crash were released. A mix of feelings, from concern and fear to survivor's guilt and anxiety, burst from her chest. Erica's sudden injury caught her off guard, both practically and emotionally. Just as she had not been prepared to deal with the possibility of losing one of her close companions, she was also unprepared to face the reality that Erica could no longer be relied upon as a super ace.

Taking up a command position after years of service in a combat unit had been harder on Minna than she could have ever imagined. Although Minna did not regret making the choice, the reality of no longer being able to serve on the frontlines with those she commanded had given her more survivors guilt than she thought possible. For people like Minna, who put the lives of their subordinates above all else, the feeling was most painful. At least before she would pay for her own mistakes. Now a single wrong decision on her part could send one of her friends …. no sisters … into an early grave. And that terrified Minna.

 _No, if am too weak to make those decisions then there will be others who can and will send my sisters into battle with no regard for their lives. I choose to accept this position so I can remain with those who I have come to regard as family. I will prevail, no matter the burden._ Minna's thoughts triggered a memory from long ago. A memory that formed the foundation of Minna's character. It was a memory of her mentor.

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 **January, 1943**

 **Central South Britannia**

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The Britannian countryside. Even during times of war the open air and rolling hills of the English farmland had a way of bringing country and city folk alike back to the Earth. As the winter came around, a thin layer of snow and ice delicately covered the surface of fields and hills. Smoke billowed upwards from small cottages that dotted the landscape and the land was devoid of sound save the occasional rumble of a distant automobile. Even with the world at war one could still find peace in these covered meadows.

In one such cottage, a young teenage girl and an elderly man sat down at a small dining table. The two looked like an odd pair. The young girl belonged in high school. Her red-orange eyes twinkled with sentimentality and enthusiasm. Her hair came flowing down her back in the same shade as her eyes. The man, on the other hand, looked well over the age of retirement. His brown moustache, which showed signs of graying, laid across a square face. His short haircut covered his head in a single layer, parted to the right. Having long lost the enthusiasm of youth, his eyes spoke of a tired yet memorable life. Leaning against his chair was a walking stick.

An elderly woman entered the room and set down two tea cups. One was filled with Earl Grey, the other contained freshly brewed coffee. The two said their thanks and reached for their respective drinks. The lady smiled and left the room as the two of them shared a moment of silence while they sipped their beverages. As both of them lowered their cups to the table, the man ventured to start a conversation.

"Do you like the weather?"

"It's nice. The snow reminds me of Karsland in the winter."

"That must be reassuring. I used to be a skier when I was younger. Seeing a good snowfall brings back a lot of pleasant memories from before the war."

"These last few days must be comforting to see then."

"Indeed they are."

The two of them spent a few seconds in silence. It was not the awkward silence between two teenagers who do not know what to say, or the downright depressing silence between two seniors who have nothing to talk about. It was a silence in which both felt comforted by one another's company yet secure in their own respective privacy. In the past, the two of them could sit for hours in this state as they completed their work. The teenager, having a particular goal in mind, decided to interrupt this state after five minutes.

"How are you holding up?" She asked empathetically.

He smiled at the question. "It's been painful, but I'll survive. I still have my pension and the recognition as the 'Hero of Britannia.' I shouldn't have anything to complain about, but the manner in which they dismissed me… let's just say I'll be bitter over the subject for quite some time to come."

"I suppose it hurts to have been removed by a collusion between those who are in power and your own political rivals."

"Humiliating, perhaps, but bearable."

Ignoring the last remark, the girl went straight to her question. "If I may ask, do you regret accepting the position as Chief of RAF Fighter Command just to be dismissed in such a fashion?"

The man paused, and clasped his head thoughtfully. "Now that's a question few have ventured to ask me. Well, I suppose it would be of particular interest to you, considering your position," He said while lifting himself out of his chair. Grabbing his walking cane, he brought himself over to the window. The man stared out into the cold, empty land for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts.

"Accepting this position has been undoubtedly the hardest thing I have ever done. This job has brought me exhaustion, grief, and no shortage of accusations and enemies against me. I have made many mistakes over these years, some of them being taken in the lives of RAF boys. Yet if you asked me whether, if I had the choice, I would somehow redo life without accepting this position, I wouldn't even think about it."

The girl didn't say it, but the man could tell she wanted to ask "Why?"

"I have met many of my closest companions in my time at Bentley Priory, and I would not throw away our time together so needlessly. Yet that only partially explains my reasoning. Tell me, Minna, would you consider me an able commander?"

"More than able, Sir. I'd say you are the best commander in Britannia."

"I hope that was honesty and not flattery, Lieutenant Colonel," he said, giving her a curious look. "Regardless, many people I have met have described me as someone who cares and acts in the interests of the well-being of the men under my command. Knowing this, would it be unreasonable for me to resist my own dismissal from RAF fighter command?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

Sighing, the man turned around and faced Minna. "Part of the reason I accepted my position in the first place was because I had a feeling that if I passed the opportunity up, someone less concerned about the safety of their subordinates wouldn't. Ask any military commander, and they'd likely tell you something similar. If people like you and me don't take charge when the opportunity presents itself, then others will. Others who may or may not have the same dedication to the men and women under their command."

Turning back around, the man spent another few minutes staring into the empty, snow-covered hills. "Olympus knows I have made mistakes, and I'm sure my men know it too. Yet despite all of that, they more or less trusted me in the same respect that I trusted them. They slept comfortably knowing I wouldn't throw their lives away needlessly, and I slept comfortably knowing they would perform as expected. It was a sort of mutual understanding, one so powerful that I doubt I'll be able to create something similar ever again. For the pilots to answer to someone whom I cannot vouch for… I feel like I've let them down." Choking, the man ended his monologue. Turning back, Minna could see tears flowing from his eyes as he gestured towards his coat. "Would you mind fetching me my handkerchief?" He muttered between sobs.

As she got up from her seat with Dowding's handkerchief in her hand, Minna's mind was attempting to process the scene unfolding in front of her. Minna had never seen her colleague cry like this before. Sure, he had gotten a little teary eyed at scenes before (usually during funerals of RAF pilots), but this is the first time he had full out cried in front of her. And now he was practically bawling his eyes out over being unable to protect his "chicks," or his pilots. _I knew he cared about his pilots, but I didn't know he felt this responsible for their well-being. Is this what he's been trying to tell me all along?_

Clasping his hand lightly as she handed him his handkerchief, Minna stepped back while the former Commanding Officer of RAF Fighter Command attempted to regain his composure. He was not having much luck, and his condition seemed to get worse rather than better. Minna was still struggling to understand what was causing so much distress to the senior officer. _People usually react this way when they talk about those they consider family. Could it be that the Baron sees his pilots as his family!? No, that can't be. Anyone would be able to tell the difference between their subordinates and their blood relatives._

Looking back once again at Dowding, she watched as he continued to struggle in getting his emotions under control. _If I considered my pilots my children, would I be put in a similar state?_ Minna asked herself, both intrigued and concerned.

The man known to the world as Hugo Caswall Tremenheere Dowding had another name given to him. A name given to him by someone he considered close. Mentor. Once Dowding had calmed himself down, the two of them spent the next few hours discussing everything from aeroplane and striker technology to memories from Bentley Priory. Someone hearing their conversation for the first time could tell they were old friends sharing one last talk before saying goodbye. After a few hours of discussion and at least three cups of coffee, Minna said her farewells and left to command her own unit. It would be the last time they would speak with each other for the next 6 years.

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If someone had told her that she would be put in Dowding's position in less than 4 years, she would have called them crazy. Yet the unthinkable had indeed happened, and now Minna had to deal with the consequences.

Letting the image of Dowding's country house fade into oblivion, Minna pulled herself off the wall and straightened her posture. Heading to the bathroom, Minna drenched her skin in cool, refreshing water. As Minna let her anxieties and fears wash away, she centered her mind around her task. _I still have a debrief and one massive headache to deal with_ , she thought as her hand grasped the door to her office.

The evening sun lit the room in a dim light and began its descent into the west. Running her hand over a stack of photos of various types of Neuroi, Minna's mind wondered how exactly she would deal with the new Neuroi. _Posting more patrols won't solve the underlying issue. We will continue to be outgunned by those craft and casualties will mount._

The distinctive ring of the telephone on her desk broke her line of thought. Reacting quickly, she brought the handle to her ear.

"Hallo?"

"Minna! How are you doing?" said a voice that sounded exactly like Hartmann.

Minna stood there for a moment, stunned, before she realized that it was Ursula. Minna answered in the calmest voice she could muster.

"I'll be honest, I've been better."

"Is something the matter?" Ursula's voice spoke in a pleasant tone. Minna could not bring herself to tell her the news, so she decided to list her more pressing concern.

"The Neuroi have fielded a new type, and it's giving us some trouble. It's faster and more powerful than any Neuroi of its kind."

"A new type? That's amazing!" Though Ursula's voice didn't change much, Minna could tell

she was excited about something.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's great! I'll finally have the combat test we need!"

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 **United Military Personnel File B-RAF-18746**

Full Name: Hugo Caswall Tremenheere Dowding, 1st Baron Dowding

Born: 24th April 1882

Allegiance: Commonwealth of Britannia

Service/Branch: Britannian Army, Royal Air Force

Years of Service: 1900-1942

Rank: Air Chief Marshal

Commands Held: 16 Squadrons (1915-1916), RAF Fighter Command (1935-1942)

Wars/Battles: First Neuroi War, Second Neuroi War

Awards: Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian , Mention in Dispatches

Notes: Early supporter of the Miyafuji theory and one of the leading supervisors of the Striker Unit project. In 1935, he was appointed commander of the newly formed RAF Fighter Command. As one of the few people in the world who disagreed with the Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin's 1932 declaration "The Neuroi will always get through", he oversaw the development of the Dowding System. This network of radar arrays and human observers, supported by raid plotting and radio control of aircraft, became the standard system for both conventional and witch based interceptor units. He was a major supporter for the formation of the 501st JFW, and he later ensured that the unit was attached to RAF Fighter Command. Was replaced in 1942 by Trevor Maloney, his political rival, after a sharp increase in night raids by the Neuroi.


	5. Chapter 5

**Debrief**

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Incheon, Korea  
July 27th, 1947  
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The port of Incheon is the heart of the Korean economy. Since Ancient times, ships laden with goods from faraway lands have arrived at Incheon to do business. Agricultural products, precious metals, and artistic works traded hands in this vibrant port city. In times of poor harvest, these hubs of commerce were Korea's lifeline. Without them, the people would starve. Incheon used to be one of many small ports scattered across the Korean coastline until the Neuroi began to occupy Manchuria at the start of the First Neuroi War. As the population migrated from Pyonyang to Seoul, Incheon became the country's most important harbor. Large numbers of ships docked at its piers loaded with military supplies from Liberion. The Korean rail network, built by Liberion Engineers in 1945, worked quickly to ensure the front line units were kept stocked with supplies.

As the 26th of July winded down to a close, the harbor began to fall asleep. Most of the workers at the docks had started to make their way home. Much of the machinery working the piers fell silent as another busy day ended. Ports can never really close, however, and a small number of people made their way through the throngs of off-duty workers. They had the night shift, and were responsible for serving any ship that came after dusk. While staying up through midnight isn't exactly something most people enjoy doing, overtime pay and threats of unemployment were usually enough to convince the average harbor worker to come.

Most nights the harbor remained quiet until morning came around and the night shift was released. Tonight, however, as the workers finished up their fourth game of poker, a loud horn sounded. Scrambling, the workers ran outside to see a heavy cruiser bearing the flag of the Karlsland navy entering the bay. With a dignified air, it brought itself up to the pier and halted. An anchor plunged into the ocean, a rusted metallic ramp was thrown onto the pier, and out stepped a squad of Karslandian marines. Their footsteps clanged with a weighted, impassioned "thud" as they pounded out of the ship. The dock crew looked upon the arrayed lines of disciplined human flesh with child-like wonder, as if they were some new weapon born from a faraway land.

While the dock workers continued to stare in awe at the sight displayed before them, a single figure dressed in dark blue descended from the ship. His hat and refined outfit signified someone of rank, and his steps were less forceful yet somehow more intimidating than the marines who preceded him. Stepping from the deck, he arrayed himself before the workers.

"Guten Abend, gentlemen. Anyone here speak English or Karslandian?" The officer's voice was punctual, yet dignified. Hints of aristocracy could be detected in his voice by a close listener.

"I speak little English." From the crowd of workers stepped forward a man with overalls and a tired face. From the way the crowd stepped back for his approach, he was also a man of importance.

"Are you the one in charge here?" The Karslandian officer asked.

"Yes. I night shift foreman. I guy in charge." The dock worker repeated in broken english. He had a thick Eastern accent that made it somewhat hard to tell what he was saying.

"I am the captain of this vessel, the Nürnberg. On orders from the Karslandian government, we are to deliver our cargo and passenger to Kimpo Air Base as soon as possible. Can you assist us?"

"No. Very busy. Train all full. Must wait till morning," the foreman responded.

"Very well. I'll leave you to your work then. Oh, and one more thing. This is sensitive cargo, so this squad of marines will be accompanying the train all the way to Kimpo base. I trust this is not an issue?"

"No, no issue. We are … flexible." He stated before barking orders to his colleagues in Korean. All of a sudden, the port lit up as lights came on and cranes came to life. Some of the workers made their way up to the ropes and prepared the machines. Others crossed the boarding plank onto the Nürnberg and began to move the crates out of the cargo hold.

Turning to the marines, the officer returned to his native Karslandian. "Stellen sie sicher, dass der Passagier und die Fracht Kimbo erreichen. Wenn sie den Zielort erreicht haben, bleiben sie bei der Fracht und warten auf weitere Befehle." (1)

"Jawohl, Kapitän." The marine responded, crisp and chipper.

As the captain stepped back onto the ship, another figure in plain brown clothes prepared to step off. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he departed from Neue Karlsland. His heart ached from both the excitement of his new journey and the satisfaction of returning home.

"Ready to go?" A soft, feminine voice behind him asked.

"Yes." He said with resolute firmness as he took his first step onto the gangplank.

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Kimpo Air Base, Korea  
July 28th, 1947  
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Sakamoto slammed her fist onto the table. "What do you mean they got away!?"

"Um…. they were lucky?" Erica said nervously. Major Sakamoto, apparently not satisfied with the answer, gave Erica the most intense stare that anyone had seen her give since the 501st had arrived in Korea.

She's going to kill me! Erica thought in a panic as she broke into a cold sweat.

The Major pulled back from the table and cupped her face with her hands. "What are we supposed to do, Hartmann? If humanity's greatest ace can't even deal with a few mediums, what hope do the new recruits have? The other squadron members? This could be a disaster for the war effort," she said in dismay.

"Mio, you're not being reasonable. As far as we know, these are a few rare types never before encountered. If this is the first we've seen of them, that means there are not many of these units currently active. We still have time before this becomes a major issue," Minna said in a calm, calculating voice.

"The Neuroi have craft that are capable of outfighting humanity's best ace! I think this already qualifies a major issue," Sakamoto responded with a sigh.

"I'm sure a more permanent solution will present itself in time. In the meanwhile, we need to develop a way to cope with the new craft and learn more about our enemy," Minna said in a voice that reflected wisdom far beyond her years.

"Very well. Now describe the craft that attacked you," Sakamoto said in resignation as she turned to interrogate Erica.

Minna let her thoughts wander as Erica described the craft in detail. Indeed, she had already gone through this entire process earlier, back at the hospital, and didn't need to listen that attentively. Instead, she visualized the craft as Erica explained it to Sakamoto. Swept wings… large funnels…. and top speeds well exceeding our prop strikers! It seems more like a human innovation than a Neuroi one. Her thoughts came back to the present as Sakamoto's shoulders slouched. Evidently, she had been convinced by Erica's description of the craft.

"Very well. You are dismissed Lieutenant," Sakamoto said reluctantly.

Erica scrambled out of her seat in an instant. Her hand flayed around erratically as she gave them her salute before she rushed out the door and slammed it behind her. The phrase "freedom!" could be heard from the other side.

Sakamoto put a hand to her forehead and sighed. "And yet she's the best humanity has to offer…"

Minna smiled as she continued to study Barkhorn's more informative and objectively written report. "Considering what your state was when you were 19, she's aging much more smoothly than the average witch. You could say that she hasn't lost her touch nearly as much as one would expect."

"I suppose some commendation should be given for that," Sakamoto said thoughtfully.

"Enough about Erica. We have an issue to deal with," Minna said, bringing a semblance of order back to their discussion.

"Right. Based on Erica's description, you're probably right," Sakamoto said as she turned back around. With Erica's description freshly in her memory, Sakamoto imagined the craft in her head as she spoke. It gave her the clarity she needed to create an analysis. "We've dealt with high speed Neuroi before, so the speed itself isn't an issue. I bet Shirley could easily outrun these craft. They don't have nearly the amount of maneuverability of the other medium craft either. Any of our experienced members could easily shoot down one or two by themselves."

"The problem doesn't lie so much in their capabilities. It's the fact they are medium sized, as opposed to large types. The enemy can produce these in much greater numbers and overwhelm single or even pairs of witches. Not to mention these things seem capable of pulling basic combat maneuvers. While our specialists may be superior in the areas they specialize in, on a general level these things can not only outnumber us, but outgun us," Minna responded in a voice that struck Sakamoto as serious, pragmatic, and cold, lacking the usual soft touches that made Minna the motherly figure of the squadron.

Pushing this observation from her mind, Sakamoto responded with her own dosage of pragmatism."Indeed. While this issue is less dramatic than a single large type Neuroi with impressive capabilities, it is certainly harder to solve. We cannot simply destroy the problem in a single, combined strike."

The two stood there in silence, with Minna contemplating on what to do and Sakamoto observing her face with scrutiny.

"Well, I suppose strategy can't be decided in the heat of the moment," Sakamoto said after a while. "I'm going down to the hanger. If you think of anything, just let me know," she said as she reached for the door.

"Will do," Minna responded rather meekly as the door closed behind Sakamoto. With Sakamoto gone, Minna let her composure collapse as she let out a sigh. Her shoulders sagged and her back folded into her body. Yet despite the more or less calm state of her body, Minna's mind thoughts honed into a particular image that gave her the most stress. Mio Sakamoto. Why didn't you say anything you idiot! She was right in front of you! Minna thought in anger as her fist came down onto the metallic table. You froze in the moment yet again. Why do you keep torturing yourself what her reaction will be?

Yet no matter how much she asked herself that, Minna knew the answer. The answer that opened up old wounds every time it is uttered. The sound of a gentle piano, gradually fading into the background… Kurt.

No, I do not have the liberty to think of such things. I have too many lives depending on me having my sanity in check to drift into recollection she thought with newfound determination. Minna gathered up her papers and left the room. As she paced the metallic and barren hallways of the base, more of Dowding's words resurfaced in her memory.

"In a way, this might be a good change. I can finally find peace here, away from my command…"

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Kimpo Air Base Hangar #4  
Six Hours later  
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"Alright, I'm all wrapped up here. You finished yet with that Merlin, Shirley?!" A rough Midwestern Liberion accent called out from the far side of the hanger.

"Almost!" Shirley called back as the tension on the device in her hand surged. As soon as the words left her mouth, a wrench flew out of her gripe and smashed into a rack of tires. As the carefully organized slabs of rubber crashed and scattered across the hanger's floor the room exploded into a horrid cacophony of chaotic scratches and bounces. Eventually, the ruckus died down and only three sounds remained. That of a tire sprawling across the hangar floor, the groan of the engineering chief, and a sigh from Shirley as she closed the top of the engine she had been laboring at for the past hour.

"Guess I screwed it on a bit too tight…" she said as her face curled into an embarrassed grin. Almost out of instinct, Shirley's hand came up and lightly scratched the back of her head. If Luchini had been around, she would have called it "classic Shirley."

The engineer simply put his hands to his temple and sighed. "What am I going to do about you, Shirley? If you can't be in here without making a mess, I'll have to put a restraining order on you. Last thing anyone wants is for the hanger to burn down because of your little projects," he said the last part with an emphasis that bordered on mockery.

Shirley sighed and began to reorganize the tires strewn across the floor. Her hand felt over the rough edges of one of the tires as she lifted it into the air. A sudden crashing prompted her to look back over her shoulder. The tire stand was standing upright, despite the fact that moments ago it had lain across the ground. Looking around some more, Shirley spotted the chief picking up some of the tires as well. Smiling, Shirley went back to slab of rubber in her hands.

The two worked silently for a while as the hanger gradual returned to its undisturbed state. Indeed, working quietly and privately might very well have been their relationship's defining feature. Shirley felt the most productive in the relative silence of the hanger, especially during off hours, and the Chief understood that well. At odd hours of the day the Chief would walk in to accomplish some unfinished chore, and more times than not Shirley would be there, working diligently at her workbench on some unfinished engine part or continuing her search for the maximum output of a Merlin engine.

This was no different, and as the two continued their monotonous work, nether felt particularly compelled to break the silence that may have been otherwise considered awkward. That is not to say that they didn't care for social discussion, nor were they uninterested in the feelings of the other. In fact, quite the opposite. But their unspoken agreement was not to be broken. And so they continued to work this way, in a comforting, friendly, understanding silence.

The two of them were an odd pair. The phrase "larger than life" would describe Shirley accurately. Magnanimous in character, tall and buxom in appearance, Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager ("Shirley" to her friends) is a thrill-seeker fascinated by speed. Carefree, social, and an individualist at the core, Shirley has an ability to become friends with just about anyone. Her bright red-orange hair and dull blue eyes ensures she leaves an image that's hard to forget.

In contrast, Chief Maintenance Officer Harvey Dalton was much less outgoing. Built with an average height and an acceptable amount of girth, Dalton found himself naturally attuned to the role of overseer. Practical and group-oriented, Dalton had a natural tendency to support the status quo and was not afraid to make sacrifices in order to preserve it. Brown hair, with brown eyes, Harvey tended to blend into the background easily when he's not taking charge.

The two of them continued to work at their task, oblivious to the world around them. That is, until the sound of diesel engines and straining axles forced the two to take notice of an unscheduled intrusion. This intrusion came in the form of a convoy of trucks, led by a lone Kübelwagen. Cleaning up the rest of the mess quickly, the two looked over and observed the curious sight. As the trucks pulled up to the hanger and stopped, a moment of anxious silence hung in the air. Then 8 marines dressed in navy blue disembarked from the truck. Karslandian shouting could be heard as four crates were unloaded from their respective trucks and the marines began hauling them off to Hanger 6.

Since the tires had all been rearranged, Shirley and the Chief stood up and watched the spectacle.

"This isn't the usual supply run by any chance, is it?" Shirley asked. She had arrived at the base less than two days ago, and was still finding her way around.

"No, the usual run is made by the Army. These guys are different." The chief responded thoughtfully.

As the two continued to watch the scene with interest, two figures walked toward the first hanger from the Kübelwagen. One of them was a tall man in brown clothing. He carried two large suitcases with him. The other was Ursula Hartmann, carrying with her a small clipboard and her own small suitcase. Ursula's short, petite form and blonde hair contrasted with her partner's tall, thin body and brown hair. To further contrast the two, Ursula's skin was nearly pale, while her partner's complexion had a light brown shade that evenly covered his body.

"I wonder who these two are.." The chief wondered aloud.

"That's Ursula." Shirley said as she pointed towards her. "She's Erica's twin sister and one of the top brains for the Karsland military."

"Huh… I wonder why she's here."

"Last time I saw her she came to take back a destroyed prototype they had sent us to test." Shirley responded with a chuckle.

"Then who's he?" The chief said as he nudged toward her accomplice.

"Beats me. I ain't never seen him before." She said with her Virginian accent before thrusting her arm into the air. "Aye, Urusla!" She yelled in a cheerful tone.

It was hard to tell at this distance, but Ursula seemed to smile for a brief second before whispering something to the person next to him. The two of them continued to whisper to each other as they closed the distance before they were about 40 feet away. Then the two of them, apparently satisfied with concluding their conversation there, came to a halt.

The silence only lasted for a few seconds, but time seemed to drag out into immeasurable proportions as the two groups stood across from each other. Ursula gave off a warm smile as her face obtained an elated but controlled form, while her partner gave a somewhat blank face that seemed to communicate relief, exhaustion, surprise, and disinterest all at the same time. On the other side, the Chief took on an expression of curiosity, while Shirley simply gave off a full smile, filled to the brim with confidence.

"It is good to see you again, Shirley." Ursula said in a soothing, calm voice.

"Likewise. I haven't seen you in 3 years!" Shirley said in her usual, cheerful manner.

"Yes, it really has been too long…" Ursula said rather thoughtfully. "Anyway, I have someone I would like you to meet." She said as she gestured to the man next to her.

"This is Byung Hook Ji. He's an aeronautical engineer with North Liberion and will be my Korean advisor during my stay here in Korea."

"Glad to have you on board." Shirley said as she extended her hand to him. He hesitated for a moment, as if he was unsure of whether he should accept the handshake or not. Then he accepted the gesture with an uncomfortable clasp.

Strange guy, but I'm sure he'll loosen up when he settles in. Shirley thought to herself as she pulled away. Byung and the Chief shook hands as well.

"While we're making introductions, I would like you two to meet Chief Maintenance Officer Haley Dalton. He's the one responsible for keeping our planes in tip top shape." Shirley stated as she gestured to him.

"Just call me Chief, and we'll get along just fine." He said as another round of handshakes were swapped.

"As much as I'd like to continue this conversation, we should really check in with Minna. But before I go, I brought a couple presents from Neue Karsland." She said with a smile as she placed her book bag on the ground and took off her backpack. Reaching inside it, she produced a small box and handed it to Shirley.

Shirley opened it up and pulled out a small mechanical part. It looked like a flat board with two tubes extending from both sides.

"Is this a Merlin X supercharger? The one with the two-speed gearbox!?"

Ursula nodded. "This is the original experimental supercharger for the Merlin X engine. It's designed to be attachable to older, outdated designs with the upgraded engine intake system. The engineers at Rolls Royal Limited don't really have a use for these anymore, and they decided to give me one as a memento. I'd thought it would look better in an actual engine than sitting on my office shelf."

"I've been looking for one of these for forever!" Shirley said in excitement as she picked Ursula up and gave her a staggering hug. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem. It's the least I can do," Ursula said with a smile as Shirley released her grip on her. Shirley admired the part in her hand and Ursula watched her in her moment of joy.

After a while, Byung gave a slight nod to Ursula and picked up his suitcases. "Well, we should probably get moving. It was a pleasure to meet you two."

"Likewise," Chief Haley said with an embarrassed look.

Ursula picked up her luggage and the two of them walked out of the hanger before turning right towards the main building.

"Now that's a sight you don't see every day. What ya make of that, Shirley?" the Chief asked.

There was no response. "Shirley?" the Chief asked again as he turned around. Sure enough, she was working fervently at her workbench, installing the new supercharger straight onto her engine.

Sighing to himself, the chief produced a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. Flicking the lighter on, he simply stood there and watched Shirley take her engine apart once again. As much as he'd like to head over to the base bar, there was no way he was going to let Shirley work unsupervised in his hanger.

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 **Translations**

1:

"Make sure the Passenger and the Cargo arrive safely at Kimbo. Once you've arrived at your Destination you stay with the cargo until further orders" (direct translation)

 **And for all that are interested:**

Supercharger Upgrade (Merlin X): Single Stage Two-Speed Gearbox.

Modifications to increase air intake having already been performed by Shirley, the Merlin X Supercharger allowed two separate ratios for the engine operation (a low ratio for takeoff to 3,000 meters, a higher one for above 3,000 meters). This dramatically improves aerial performance above 5,000 meters.

When my German friend and I looked over the story. I realized it would do the story good to have a command in German. While translating sentences, I discovered some interesting differences between the original English version and the translated German one.

For one, German military commands are much more precise than those in English militaries. While the method used to obtain the objective is completely up to the squad, the objective is usually defined very explicitly. (Do A, than B, unless C happens, then do D)

 **Author's Note:  
** **Sorry about the long wait for this one. Had a bit of trouble finding someone to beta read this over. Anyway I hope you all had a great Valentines Day and you enjoy the chapter. See you next month!**


	6. Chapter 6

**9 Kilometers Above the Ground**

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 **9,000 Meters Above Wonsan, Korea**

 **July 30th, 1947**

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A ball-turret gunner's life was one of many extremes. There was the sense of crushing boredom, of looking into the sky between a pair of feet for hours on end. Then there were the moments of horror, of watching the ground crews wash out the bloodied remains of previous gunners while the next crew pulled sticks to see who would replace him. The mood was inexplicably fixed by the situation at hand. It was hard to feel bored with flak bursting around the plane, and it was equally difficult to force a sense of fear when facing eight hours of nonstop travel.

Luckily, those days were long gone for this particular young gunner. He was flying in the new B-29 Superfortress bomber. This state of the art aircraft had the latest in Liberion technology. Not only did it have a larger payload and better performance at high altitudes, but it was the first American plane to be fully pressurized. This dramatically improved the health and comfort of the crew, as it protected them from symptoms of working at high altitudes. Additionally, the man-operated gun pods on previous planes had been replaced by remote controlled turrets, which were controlled from an interface in the center of the aircraft. Each gunner could control two .50 caliber machine guns safely inside the craft, which made the days of turret gunners getting plastered in their glass compartments a thing of the past.

Even with all these features, bombing missions were still hazardous. Simply being a crewman of a bomber in Europe meant that you had a one in five chance of surviving a full tour. Planes flying low to perform CAS were vulnerable to AA fire from ground units, while bombers flying at altitudes of 6,000-8,000 meters often had to fly without fighter or witch escort. This problem was rectified by the arrival of North Liberion P-51 planes and strikers in 1944, but bombing continued to be one of the most dangerous jobs in the allied military.

All of this information was ingrained in the young gunner's mind as he sat in the seat of his own B-29, but none of it seemed relevant to him. According to everything he had heard so far, none of the aviators before him had encountered flak or intercepting fighters. The Korean skies had remained clear ever since the Fifth Air Force had arrived in December. For a bomber pilot in the Second Neuroi War, Korea was the safest possible assignment. He was, to quote the Britannians, "Safe as houses".

 _Alright, this is it!_ He thought as the plane dropped altitude to 6,000 meters. The shuddering of the plane's wings could be heard as a tense silence filled the plane. After a few moments, the bombardier yelled "Bombs away!" as the bomb-bay doors swung open with a metallic clang.

Several dozen whistles plunged toward the Earth and proceeded to lay waste to those below. After the distant thunder of several hundred pounds of explosives faded, a distinct sound stood out from the jumble of normal, monotonous noises. It resembled a distant whine, like that of a quickly approaching aircraft. The chief gunner looked up for a split second, his face colored with surprise, before the whine turned into a roar that hit the bomber crew like a hammer.

Gunners scrambled for their seats as the chief officer attempted to yell orders over the noise. The cabin lurched sideways in a state of panicked control as the pilot attempted to pull the plane closer to the formation. The steady sound of machine guns filled the sky as the roar gradually faded into the distance.

"Cease fire! The spitfires are chasing it down." the pilot hollered over the intercom after a few moments.

Gradually, the machine guns stopped firing and the craft returned to a normal state. The only noise that remained was the occasional beep from the radio as the operator worked diligently at his station. In an instant, he whipped off his headphone.

"We've lost bombers 6 and 12."

Everyone paused for moment, even the chief gunner, as the reality sunk in. These were the first USAF planes lost over Korea since the conflict began, and the first time a B-29 had been shot down since it's introduction in 1944. 6 and 12, the jovial faces so beloved at the pub, were gone.

Some of the crew cursed and pounded on the metal walls of the cabin. Others grasped for pictures and letters of home, as if it would be the last time they would get to read or see their loved ones. The chief gunner sighed and tried to bring his gun crews back under control.

Two people stayed at their posts. The pilot, sweating nervously about his new situation, frantically searched the area in front of his cockpit. At the same time, the former ball-turret gunner was at his post, swivelling his turret back and forth as he searched the sky below the aircraft. After several minutes of staring into empty space through a computer screen, he saw something. A gleam of black and red.

"IT'S BACK!" He yelled out before pulling the trigger on his controls. The thumping of machine guns filled the sky again as he poured a hail of lead towards the craft's general area. The sky lit up in glorious streaks of red, yellow, and blue as the neuroi flew past the formation.

Looking outside of his window, he caught a glimpse of half of a wing falling to the earth, splitting into fragments and pieces as it fell from view. Then, as if out of nowhere, a massive explosion filled the sky on the opposite side of the plane. Streams of yellow and blinding white cascaded past the window sills as bits and pieces of metal and paper slowly crashed against the plane.

At that moment, the radio operator jumped out of his seat. "We just lost bombers 2 and 3, and 4 is going down!"

"I've had enough of this shit!" The pilot yelled from the cockpit as he broke his plane away from the chaos.

"You tell the other boys to book it back to base. I'm going to try to distract the son of a bitch." He yelled back to the radio operator before grabbing the intercom.

"Boys, I'm going to break formation and try to lure that fighter away from the others. If you want out, the door is to your right and the parachutes are on the wall."

Seven pairs of boots disappeared out of the plane. They looked like scattered seeds billowed into great clouds of canvas. The only remaining members were the gunnery officer, the ball turret gunner, the radio officer, and the pilot. After the radio operator finished talking to the other bombers, he put his headset down and stared at the parachutes on the wall.

The chief gunner walked up to the lad. "Go to your family, Mark. We'll handle these bastards."

The operator looked surprised at first, then he lowered his eyes as if in gratitude. After a few moments, he disappeared into the blue sky as well.

"Can't believe the kid wanted to stay while he has a newborn baby at home. That takes guts." The chief said thoughtfully before turning back to the remaining gunner.

"I'm assuming you have a death wish, corporal?"

"Negative, sarge. I should have gotten shot out of my turret countless times before, and there's only one way for a ball turret gunner to go."

The chief nodded before getting on his station as well. "We won't be able to survive more than one run, so just focus on getting as much attention as possible."

The gunner nodded as the two of them spotted the Neuroi coming from above.

"GIVE EM HELL BOYS!" The pilot yelled as he brought the plane into a dive.

Machine guns thumped, spewing a flurry of color over horizon. The whining scream of an engine filled the air as the two craft jockeyed for speed. For a brief moment the sky was nothing but a dance floor for the two birds of war. Then there was a flash, and a graceful snow of cast-iron metal covered the ground.

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 **United Military AAR US-USAF-1288**

Date: July 30th, 1947

Subject: Operation Chokehold

Related Documents: Testimony 6651; Logs 87653, 98765 and 87945;

General Results: Mission Complete; Heavy Casualties.

Summary: Besides the former capital of Pyongyang, Wonsan was the most important Korean city north of the 38th parallel prior to the invasion. While Incheon received a larger influx of trade ships, Wonsan was the distribution center for nearly all of eastern and northern Korea. As such, it supported a large population as well as the headquarters for the Korean militia. Wonsan was the last stronghold north of the 38th parallel to fall to the Neuroi, and much of the city was left in ruin as a result.

Reports from korean partisans, aerial reconnaissance, and ground forces have led Allied intelligence to consider Wonsan either the location of the Neuroi's command and control center or a major supply center of some kind. Fifth Air Force was given the mission of neutralizing this position.

A squadron of B-29s from 3rd Bombardment Wing, Fifth Air Force along with escorting planes from RN Task Force 55 initiated supply-interdiction missions over Wonsan. Expected resistance from aerial threats was nonexistent, as medium type craft could not keep up with the bombers at high altitude. The force contained 12 B-29s escorted by 10 seafires. The group successfully dropped their payload but lost 8 Seafires and 6 B-29s to several unidentified enemy assailants on the return flight.

After cruising for 6 hours at an altitude of 8,000 meters the group lowered to 6,000 meters. The lead bombardier found the target, a large neuroi concentration at the gates of Wonsan. The payload was successfully dropped, however the dropping of the bombs attracted unwanted attention. Reports vary, but the squadron was attacked by 2-6 enemy aerial forms of an unidentified type.

On the first attack pass, 2 bombers were lost to a single attacking craft. The bombers closed formation and the escort of 10 seafires broke from the formation and went to chase the craft down. What happened next has been described in two different testimonies.

The testimony of Squadron Leader Graham S. Hulse states that the craft could easily outrun the escorting seafires while constantly gaining an altitude advantage. After flying away fromt he planes for 2 minutes, Hulse states that the craft pulled a perfect immelman and came at the formation head on, a set of moves previously thought impossible by neuroi craft. As the craft approached, it opened fire from two sources in its nose, downing two of the seafires. Cannon and mg fire was ineffective as the craft approached the squadron from higher speeds than anticipated. A few hits were scored on the wings, and the craft's speed visibly decreased.

Instead of attempting to turn into the formation, however, the craft sped past the squadron and regained its space gap before turning around to make another high speed pass. By the time the craft had returned to make another attack, all of its earlier damage had been repaired. This has been unheard of for a medium sized aerial unit. Two more seafires went down while the squadron scored very few hits on the aggressor.

It was at this moment that Hulse allegedly received a radio message indicating the superfortresses were under attack again. Thinking quickly, Hulse split his remaining planes into two groups. One was to remain here and keep the Neuroi occupied, while Hulse led the other group back to help out the superfortresses. Upon arriving at the sight, the group spotted a superfortress separated from the group just before it was shot out of the air by the Neuroi attacker. Having dealt with the prey, the Neuroi made a diving attack onto Hulse's group. Hulse's group each made a shallow turn in order to mess with the Neuroi attack angle, and thus no planes were lost. Instead of pulling up for another run like the other, this Neuroi came in low and tried to bring his guns to bear on one of the seafires.

The Neuroi bled off so much speed in the maneuver that by the time he was able to get a bead on the seafire, Hulse was on top of him as well. After numerous hits, the neuroi fell to the Earth as it gradually disintegrated, but not before it managed to incinerate the craft it was pursuing.

The other testimony is from one of the bomber pilots. It contains little that isn't explained in Hulse's testimony, and thus should be forwarded to North Liberion for product analysis.

Lessons to be learned are as follows:

1\. Witch patrols should collaborate with bombing operations so that mutual support and assistance is available in future operations. Witch escorts should also be assigned for larger operations.

2\. When under attack by this new assailant, a formation should spread and scatter to avoid damage instead of grouping into formation to concentrate firepower. Since the assailant's speed makes such weapons irrelevant, this change in tactics will help lower casualties.

3\. Priority should be given to the research and procurement of craft able to match the new enemy in performance. In addition, I would recommend the earliest possible deployment of the Joint Development Striker project.

General Earle E. Partridge, Fifth Air Force


	7. Chapter 6: Intermission

**Author's Note: Sorry about the delayed release. The Overwatch Beta had my attention almost completely occupied for a couple of days there. Because of this, I have a few announcements to make.**

 **First of all, in order to make up the lost time I will be releasing Chapters 7 and 8 by the end of May. Keep your eyes peeled for them.**

 **Second of all, this intermission you are receiving right now was a draft for Chapter 6 that I ended up scrapping as a chapter. It has a lot of information, most of it relating to the background of this particular Universe. While not strictly necessary to enjoy the story, it will definitely help those who are curious as to just how Korea became a battleground, as well as explain Korea's relationships to other countries in this Universe.**

 **Enjoy!  
Urza3142  
**

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 **Intermission: The Korean Island**

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 **Kimpo Air Base, Korea**

 **July 29th, 1947**

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A chalk board. A map. A room full of potentially hostile occupants. Somehow the whole ordeal seemed jarringly familiar to what Byung had been doing every three months for the past 8 years. Either he was stuck presenting for a group of engineers too timid to get up on stage themselves, or some rich, self-absorbed "person of importance" needed to be told how to behave decently around other people. _I swear, it sometimes feels like I give lectures for a living._

In his heart, however, he knew there was a difference. He wasn't speaking to specialists only interested in how to improve their work. Byung was about to give potentially life-saving advice to those who, for whatever reason, had decided to protect his homeland. He should be grateful that their government didn't simply read to them from a history book and throw them a Korean-English dictionary like so many of the other soldiers he had met so far. Above all, he should be excited for the chance to share some knowledge that might actually assist these witches in their struggle.

Yet somehow, the speech he was about to give only filled Byung with apprehension and anxiety. Perhaps it was the social aspect of giving a lecture to a room filled with high-school age girls. Perhaps it was in this sinking feeling Byung currently had that his well practiced formula would fail to impress anything worthy of value onto those who need his help the most.

 _I can't simply give a standard presentation and let it crumble to pieces in front of me. I have to at least attempt to get some information across._ With that thought, he pondered for several minutes as Minna gave a welcoming speech to the returning members of the 501st. Plans, tangents, anecdotes, and endings created and destroyed themselves within the confines of his mind. As his feet unwillingly brought him to a standing pose, half-hearted clapping resounded in his ears.

Sometimes, a strict formula is needed to bring together several separate components into a single cohesive product. Other times, such forward thinking only limits the possibilities and capabilities of the speaker in a given area. Therefore, as Byung prepared to speak before the audience arrayed before him, all notions of pre structured language and formatting were pushed into oblivion. He was going to wing it.

"Korea is an island. That is the first thing I am going to teach you today." Byung said suddenly, drawing confused looks from the audience. As the crowd continued to grasp the meaning of Byung's statement, he calmly took out a small pipe from his pocket and some tobacco. "Open that window, if you would be so kind," he mentioned to one of the guards in the room. Byung lit his pipe and had a whiff as the guard opened the window, letting the smoke escape the room. Satisfied for the moment, he removed the pipe from his mouth.

"What I just said is more or less true, believe it or not. In Korea's current state, land travel to the mainland is nearly impossible thanks to the Neuroi invasion. There is something deeper to this as well, however. Even since ancient times, Korea has existed in a state of cultural isolation. Koreans are a fundamentally different people from their Chinese and Fusoan neighbors, as well as the Manchurian and Mongolian tribes to the north. While armies have been marched both into and out of Korea via land, the tall mountainous ranges, rugged terrain, the formidable Yalu River have made land travel impractical as an efficient method of transportation. As a result, Korean culture grew in a fashion more akin to an island than a connected peninsula."

"Even if Korea is free from the Neuroi, centuries of cultural isolation have created a consistent pattern. As the land obstacles became bridgeable and crossable, Korean nationalism started to rise as well. This is the next thing I will teach you." He said carefully as one of his hands lightly clasped his face. The pose he made was one of a curious scholar, and this had quite the impression on the audience.

"How many of you know why the League of Nations has sent you to Korea?" He asked, making a broad motion with his hands. A few hands raised into the air, mostly among the junior officers, while the senior officials stayed still. Byung gestured to a young Fusoan girl who had thrust her hand up rather excitedly.

"We are here to protect the Korean people from the Neuroi!" The young girl exclaimed as she jumped out of her seat. Her voice and face seemed to beam with enthusiasm, the kind Byung hadn't seen since he left Korea. Her white school uniform stood out from the rows of flight jackets and brass that lined the room. _Whoever she is, she definitely isn't military personnel._ Byung though as he cleared his throat and motioned for her to sit down.

"I have no doubt that your leaders have a small amount of pity and compassion for an invaded people. This, however, does not explain everything. For instance, though half our country has been invaded, the Korean people have suffered relatively little in the way of actual casualties thanks to decades of preparation. Other nations have fared much worse. Consider the crisis in Arabia, for instance. Two large hives ravage the Arabian peninsula, shattering the network of trade that once winded through the deserts and cutting humanity off from one of their greatest sources of oil. Separated from their oil reserves, the Ostoman Empire is in economic turmoil, with food prices higher than a person's average wage. They've asked the League of Nations for assistance in 1939, and have been turned down constantly ever since. Why do your leaders see fit to send soldiers here when there are clearly other places who need the help more?"

The question hung in the air; all of the young officers were squirming in their chairs, and the senior officials waited, intrigued by the question. After a while, one shaky hand rose from the audience. Byung beckoned the girl to stand. The girl, who had a European face, slowly and shyly stood up. She wore a tan blouse with an olive-black jacket. Her green tie matched the shade of her stockings, which were a combination of olive green and dull red. Her dress, though much more dignified than the young girl from before, still seemed to reflect a civilian rather than a soldier.

"Umm… I can't speak for the other countries, but my father used to talk about how the Britannian Empire had shifted from importing Oil from the Ostoman Empire to importing oil from the Sassanid Empire. Since Britannia's most important military force is the navy, this gives them the fuel they need for their warships. I think that may have something to do with it…" She said quietly and reserved before sitting back down again. Her face was ablaze with a deep flush.

Byung smiled, before continuing. "You are correct. Strategic Resources play an important role here. While the Arabian Peninsula does have substantial oil reserves, the actual infrastructure in place to extract the oil isn't present. Most of the Liberion oil wells and administration buildings have been destroyed by the Neuroi, and the remaining ones have been confiscated by the Ostoman Government. Simply put, there are easier and less dangerous ways for the Allies to obtain their oil than the Ostoman Empire." After finishing this statement, he took another whiff of his pipe. Pulling it out of his mouth again, he let out a nice little smoke ring. With pipe in hand, he continued his talk.

"Now, that was a simple example to lead us to my second topic. The nature of the L.N. expedition here in Korea. To understand this, you will need to know some of the history of Korea and Asia. As I said before, Korea spent a large amount of its existence as an independant nation, mostly isolated from Fuso by sea and China by mountains. These barriers contributed greatly to peace, as the Korean kingdom lived in relative tranquility. As time went on, however, advancements in ship construction closed the distance between Korea and Fuso. In the 16th century, Oda Nobunaga succeeded in uniting all of Fuso, ending the Sengoku Jidai and establishing the Oda shogunate. His loyal supporter Hideyoshi enacted a measure of reforms that established a central government, ending the Onin War. I'm sure this is well known to the Fusoans here already, so we won't go into too much detail. There is one intersection here that will play an important role in our story."

"The Japanese were successful in creating a stable society after a hundred years of continuous warfare, which is a feat that deserves another lecture in itself. One of the problems Nobunaga ran into, however, is that a large portion of the populace had become drilled soldiers. They had no other skills to fall back on other than soldiering, which was dangerous for a peaceful society. Hideyoshi suggested sending them to take over China, but Nobunaga didn't like what that plan entailed. Instead, the extra soldiers were sold off in bulk by the Shogunate as mercenaries, available to anyone who needed the extra muscle in the orient. The Fusoans worked for several Asian kingdoms, and many of them spent the years garrisoning provinces, putting down uprisings, and generally keeping the area stable for their respective employers. However, a large number of Fusoan mercenaries ended up working for the Dutch East India company. And this is where things become important." Byung stopped to take another whiff of his pipe before continuing on.

"The year was 1596, and Dutch colonization of the East Indies was fully underway. The Fusoan mercenaries were continually occupied with conquering and subjugating the indigenous population, and were making a lot of money at it as well. Meanwhile, the Korean government looked at these events with great concern. From their point of view, the Dutch expansion seemed to have no end. With the veteran Fusoan warriors under their pay, the Dutch steamrolled over the smaller kingdoms in these areas, establishing their own colonial governments. In contrast, Korea had been at peace for over 200 years. While the Korean navy was large enough to keep pirates at bay, it didn't have nearly enough firepower to repel a European invasion. The Korean army had suffered from decades of neglect, and was not up to the task of repelling a foreign invasion. As more and more advanced European ships docked at Korean harbors, the Korean government took an extraordinary leap of faith."

"The Korean government had very good relations with the Chinese government at this point in history. Both the Ming Dynasty in China and the Joseon Dynasty in Korea arose from Mongolian rule, and both of them promoted Confucianism in their societies. When the Dutch began to conquer the East Indies, a fresh batch of diplomatic overtures were sent to the Ming Empire. The two countries signed an alliance in 1605, a treaty which basically turned the Korean Kingdom into a protectorate of Ming China. The two nations took a further step when the Korean army was merged with the Ming army in 1610 to create a single military force to guard the northeastern coastline of Asia. Though the Korean navy remained separate from the Ming Navy, Korea was essentially a state without a military at this point. The Koreans had put themselves into the hands of the Chinese for the sake of security." After saying this piece, Byung took another whiff of his pipe. He seemed to be slightly anxious about something, and taking the pipe seemed to calm him down somehow.

"The irony of the situation was that the Dutch East India Company didn't really intend to conquer land. They were searching for profit, and thus were more interested in the spices of the East Indies than the goods of the mainland. The thought of invading Korea never once came to the Dutch's minds. With increasing demand for spices back home, and increasing competition from the newly formed Britannian East Indian Company, the company was completely focused on expanding their hold on the East Indies. By making deals with local rulers and conquering key trading posts, the Dutch kept expanding their trading empire. What looked like unchecked and unstoppable expansion to the Koreans was simply the shrewd business tactics of the Dutch Merchants. As the Dutch swallowed up more land, the resistance from the indigenous population increased dramatically. Then in 1652, the first Britannian-Dutch war began and ended in an Britannian victory. After the restoration of the Britannian Monarchy, the second Britannian-Dutch war ended in victory for the Dutch, which reaffirmed their naval superiority for the next few decades. However, both wars had put a considerable strain on the Dutch treasury. Dutch expansion halted for the next several years as the government cut back on colonial spending."

"The Britannians, desperate to hurt the Dutch in some way, began to put pressure on the various nations in the area. The Britannians demanded that the Fusoans stopped loaning their mercenaries to the Dutch, to which the Fusoans simply responded by saying the mercenaries were beyond their control. Angered by the lack of cooperation on the part of the Fusoans, the Britannians declared war to force a regime change. This would result in two inconclusive wars where the Britannian navy had control of the seas but failed to land a proper invasion force. At this point, most of the Fusoan mercenaries had ended their contracts with the Dutch as their expansion slowed. Realizing that they no longer had anything to fight over, and intrigued by the skills displayed by their enemies during the past two wars, the two governments decided on reconciliation and in 1699 they signed the Fubu alliance. The Britannians agreed to recognize the Indies as within the Fusoan sphere of influence, and in return Fuso promised to work with them against "common enemies." The Britannians, realizing that the Dutch had a drastic head start against them in the Indies, no longer wanted to fight over the region but still wanted to hurt them somehow. Fuso now had a powerful maritime ally who would support them in expanding their own commercial empire."

"This new alliance, combined with earlier Britannian efforts to keep the Koreans under Chinese sovereignty, led to the continuation of Korea as a protectorate. Despite Korean efforts to reclaim their status as an independant nation, the Chinese simply used their military might to quell discontent. After the Fubu alliance was signed, the young Chinese Emperor decided it was time to consolidate his territory. Chinese Soldiers marched into Pyongyang and Seoul in 1702, and by the end of the year the Kingdom of Korea had been annexed by the Ming Dynasty. From this point onwards, Korea would be a province in the Chinese Kingdom." Byung took another whiff from his pipe. His anxiety had clearly grown worse before it got better.

"Now that you know the nature in which Korea lost its sovereignty, the reason for your presence here becomes easier to understand. While there was initial public outcry against the annexation, over time the Koreans began to accept the state of affairs. Economically, the annexation was actually a boon for Korea. With the dissolution of the border between China and Korea, Korea became the definitive 'Gateway into China.' Traders who were interested in Chinese goods but had been driven away by China's strict customs could now dock in Korean ports directly to enter the Chinese market. Being a part of a larger agricultural nation was another positive boon, leading to fewer famines and a surplus of food being exported to Fuso. This economic prosperity inspired a Korean Renaissance brought about by a new interpretation of Confucianism."

"In the late 16th and 17th centuries, a group of Neo-Confucianists became concerned with a disconnect between Confucianist doctrine and the rapid changes occurring in Korean society. Calling themselves the Silhak (Korean for Practical Learning), they initiated a set of reforms to revamp the agricultural organization, the taxation bureaucracy, and the financial institution of the Korean provincial government. These reforms ended providing an additional economic boost to the populace while bringing in more money for the provincial government. The increase in wealth spurred investment into education and the arts, creating what would later be called the Joseon Renaissance. This influx in wealth and cultural achievement in the 50 years following the annexation had a calming effect on the Korean people. Looking around at the prosperity and cultural advances surrounding them, the Korean people couldn't help but wonder whether they were better off being assimilated by the Chinese than trying to fight the world on their own." Byung seemed to say this last part with some sadness as he lifted his pipe to his mouth.

"Over time, the Silhak made quite an impression on both Korea and China as a whole. News of their successful reforms in Korea led the rest of the Ming China to follow in their footsteps. When the Ming Dynasty fell apart in the 17th century, and Qing Dynasty replaced them, many of the confucianist government bureaucracy inspired by the Silhak remained in place. Finding themselves unable to oppose the Qing, Korea grudgingly accepted the regime change. Thanks to their geographical position and relative isolation from mainland, Korea continued to prosper while Qing China attempted several wars of expansion. To help cope with the tensions this prolonged warfare caused, the Qing Emperors began implementing democratic reforms. The stress proved too great, and a series of repeated revolts and revolutions led to the dissolution of the Imperial system and the newly christened Republic of China formed."

"Even though the Republic of China claimed ownership over all of the Chinese mainland, the powerful alliance between the Mongolian and Tibetan Kingdoms made it near impossible to take the land by force. The Chinese Republic continued to push for more control over what it saw as its rightful territory, and it probably would have succeeded if the Neuroi hadn't existed." Byung took another pause to get a whiff of his pipe.

"The discovery of Neuroi flyers around the Sea of Fuso in 1904 was the first large-scale Neuroi appearance of the 20th century. The Fusoan authorities, concerned about the creatures so often discussed by their European contacts, proposed to cooperate with the Chinese navy until the threat had been neutralized. The Chinese agreed, but secretly planned to defeat the monsters themselves. They believed their fleet of antiquated warships could easily take on this 'nuisance of nature,' as one naval officer described the Neuroi. As you can probably imagine, the Chinese Navy was decimated. Nearly all the ships were sunk or heavily damaged by the time the Fusoan fleet came to their rescue. The ships remaining, most of them of crewed by Koreans, ended up defecting their damaged ships to the Fusoans. In one battle, the Chinese Navy had been incapacitated as a fighting force for the next four decades. As the Fusoans worked to contain the incident by themselves, the Korean sailors who had survived the endeavor brought stories of the incident back home, stirring antagonism towards China."

"A decade later, the First Neuroi War kicked off. This event ravaged a world on such a scale it would be impossible to describe it adequately in a single discussion. For Korea, however, this war had a very specific word associated with it. Abandonment." Byung paused and thought about taking a whiff before deciding against it.

"Confucianism has a long history of discouraging the use of magic by witches in order to promote an "ideal" social hierarchy. The Chinese, however, took this much more seriously than other Confucian nations. Witches in China are not considered military assets, nor is their potential explored in industrial or scientific areas. In times of antiquity, this led to prominent Chinese Witches mostly being ignored, killed, or persecuted. Ever since The Great Exodus in 1674, China's witches have left the country for neighboring Fuso, Mongolia, and Vietnam in overwhelming numbers. By the 20th century, nearly all of China's witches had emigrated, and those that remained operated illegally in border provinces or city back alleys. This left the country in a state of militaristic weakness, and it is this rejection of witchcraft that caused what became known as the "Neuroi Disaster" in China."

"In 1914, a single medium sized Neuroi Hive appeared over the Gobi desert, and began systematically wiping out the military outposts in the region. Then they started to move down from the Gobi desert into North Eastern China. The Chinese military deployed a large force to stop the Neuroi. The resulting engagement, the battle of Beijing, was one of the most destructive battles in history. The Chinese army dug itself into the city, and brought in a massive number of anti-aircraft guns. The Neuroi descended upon Beijing with waves upon waves of light and medium craft. The resulting siege lasted 3 weeks before the remnants of Chinese Army retreated from the city. Approximately 150,000 Chinese soldiers were dead or left behind, and 80% of the city had been reduced to rubble."

"The Neuroi advanced further into China, fighting several more large scale battles and sending air raids against Shanghai frequently. Before the Neuroi could reach the Capital of Shanghai, however, they withdrew from Northern China back to the Gobi desert and vanished. In 1917, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the Neuroi vanished and the guns fell silent. The world had been held to the brink of defeat, but as quickly as they arrived the Neuroi disappeared. Those left alive began the process of rebuilding, and leaders worldwide met in Paris to lay down plans for the next Neuroi invasion. China, being a nation without witches, was in a particularly vulnerable state. Therefore, as it engaged itself in foreign cooperation, the Chinese military drafted numerous plans to prepare for the next appearance of the Neuroi. The one chosen by President Sun Yat-Sen, called the Pinyin plan, involved a large scale evacuation of nearly all of China's Northern Territory. This would be turned into a buffer zone that would allow the Chinese military to concentrate their defense."

"For the entirety of the First Neuroi War, Korea had remained mostly untouched by the Neuroi. Minor skirmishes between provincial militias occurred, and most of Korea was on high alert for the day that the Neuroi would pour over the Yalu river. But it never came. The storm had passed them on. In the post-war period, Korea once again enjoyed growth while the rest of the country was faced with monumental reconstruction. There was even a minor resurgence of Korean art, as artists combined traditional Korean themes with modern styles. It was this air of optimism and success that the Pinyin plan was introduced." This time Byung took a substantial whiff of his pipe, and blew three smoke rings into the room.

"The Chinese couldn't have made it worse if they had tried. Without warning, Chinese troops in cities all over Korea were disbanding provincial governments and closing businesses. A general evacuation was declared and people were instructed to leave the country for Mainland China or Overseas land. The evacuation mostly proceeded peacefully in the south, but in the North resistance from local militia resulted in gunfights and riots that left hundreds of people dead. Millions of people crowded into coastal cities around the country, trying to purchase tickets on the few remaining ships. The Chinese government had neglected to provide transport for those who were left behind, and thus a large number of Koreans, mostly of the lower class, were trapped in overcrowded camps, kept there by soldiers and the lack of transport. It didn't take long for the situation in the camps to explode."

"Rioting occurred in several cities at the same time, with workers ganging up on soldiers at the ports. By the time the riots had ended, 130 Chinese soldiers and over 560 Korean civilians had been killed. In the aftermath of the riots, former Korean government leaders, militia officers, and high-rank merchants began calling for a march on Pyongyang. On March 1st, 1922, a group of 50,000 Koreans walked out of the Port of Pusan and marched north. As they travelled, more groups escaped their camps and joined them. By the time the group was at the outskirts of Pyongyang, it numbered over 200,000. They demanded the end of the evacuation and that the governor step down from office. The provincial government agreed to step down and by 1923 nearly all of the Chinese administration and military had been evacuated to China proper. This later was known as the March 1st Movement, and is celebrated by Independence Movement Day by the Korean Provincial Government every year."

"The remaining Koreans moved back into their cities and reopened their ports for business. Because of Korea's status as a quarantine zone, however, very little legitimate business and no foreign government contracts were created with the peninsula. Additionally, the Koreans no longer had access to the large food reserves China once had. As a result, trade into Korea diminished extremely, and former merchants and businessmen were forced to work in farms or small scale industry as they saw their businesses disappear. Despite the drastic drop in foreign business, however, the agricultural and industry benefited greatly from the sudden increase in demand. Industry and agriculture would continue to rise into the early 1930s. Soon, this attracted the attention of smuggling rings, which took advantage of the void left by the decline of legitimate trade. By 1927, Korea was effectively it's own country in all but name." Byung almost seemed to laugh as he said this last bit.

"The various provincial governments that had been established across Korea met in Seoul in 1928. There, they agreed to form a central authority which would govern the provinces. This was the foundation of the Provincial Government of the Republic of Korea (KPG). This central government issued laws, printed currency, and pushed for international recognition in the League of Nations. They won universal support from smaller countries who sympathized with their position as a small nation being pushed around by larger ones. However, the key military powers, particularly Orussia and Britannia, decided against recognizing their independence. They recognized that a state that was created from a power vacuum left over from an incomplete evacuation might encourage similar rebellions in their own widespread territory. Liberion and Karlsand, while sympathizing with the Koreans, decided to appease the Orussians and Britannians to keep their military alliance intact."

"Korean diplomats, statesmen, and businessmen from all walks of life pushed again and again for recognition for a decade and a half. Orussia and Britannia still resisted, and Liberion and Karsland paid respect to their concerns by abstaining. This resistance continued into the Second Neuroi War, where the occupation of Europe left the world powers without much enthusiasm for other issues. The Korean dream of an independent country was so close, yet further away than ever before. There was great debate among the leaders of the KPG around this time. Some wanted to declare their independence and be done with it. Others considered the possibility of trying to assimilate with China. The most persuasive voices, however, continued to pursue international recognition. They argued that there was no future for Korea in China, and that without foreign recognition a declaration of Independence would be hollow." And with one last whiff of the pipe, Byung clapped his hands together.

"Now you know how my country lost its independence, its dignity, and its pride. You've learned of its relative tranquility under Chinese rule, and how their desire for protection against the Neuroi broke the status quo that had lasted for over 200 years. The only thing left to tell you is that your very presence here means a lot to the Korean people. Your presence here in Korea, the fact that you defend us against the Neuroi, gives many people hope that our future may finally be in our hands. A great burden has been placed on your shoulders, pilots. Don't let it bury you." He finished before exiting the room, leaving a trail of tobacco fragrance and lingering smoke behind him.

A silence came over the room, as each mind tried to digest what was just presented. Then, a single voice broke the spell.

"Would you look at that, ladies. Looks like the 501st is back in business." Mio said before letting out her classic laugh.


	8. Chapter 7

**The Constabulary**

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 **Kimpo Air Base, Korea**

 **August 1st, 1947**

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I used to think that the title Joseph Blanchart, 55th Military Police Company was one to take pride in. I enjoyed my job and took pride in it, with the knowledge that my actions kept the peace, ensured smooth travel, and allowed the soldiers to focus on combat. You could say I even looked forward for opportunities to prove myself. All that changed when "La Diabla", as my partner called her, descended onto Kimpo Air Base. I wasn't there when the C-47 brought her and her partner, but I wasn't long before I would get to know her very well. I would dare say I got to know her better than any other person in the entire damn base.

Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of speed demons, over enthusiastic brats, and drunken servicemen roaming the highways. My partner and I had caught so many of these that we were considered the high speed pursuit experts of the company. Before that girl had arrived, there wasn't a single vehicle at Kimpo Air Base that could outrun my Willys jeep off road and my partner's Harley on-road. Before the war I was a farm hand, and I could negotiate rough land better than anyone else on base. My partner, a guy by the name of Johnny Frausto, was an army courier by training. I've heard stories of him winning races against souped-up willies, hellcat destroyers, and other harleys. I would be a lot harder pressed to believe his stories if he wasn't the best motorcycle driver I've ever seen.

If there's anything I've learned from this experience, it'd be that no matter how secure you may be, something can always take your good fortune and trample it in the dirt. Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager made what was supposed to be a position of respect and made a mockery of it. As much as I'd like to hate her for making my job a living hell, however, I can't help but respect her as well. Her blatant disrespect for the "good and proper" and her fascination with speed resonate with Johnny and I, who had very similar attitudes in our troubled youths. And I don't care what some fucken philosopher or die-hard disciplinary says, no guy can remain mad at a teenage girl with a supermodel body for long. I imagine having an incredibly laid back superior officer gives her a sense of immunity to what she does, and from what I've heard that's partially true.

The first clue that "La Diabla" was going to make the next year hell for us came less than four days after she arrived. It was the first of August, and the rainy season was in full force. I literally spent half of august patrolling through sheets of rain, sometimes so thick that the road ahead remained obscured. How Johnny managed to get through his first rainy month without dying I will never know, but after a close call with a service truck we came to an agreement. I would handle any day that was raining during the summer, while he would take all the dry days. There was no contractual obligation, no superior standing by to enforce the rules. It was a simple agreement between two guys trying to make the best of a miserable situation.

Like the four days before it, the first of August was a miserable, rainy mudball. That meant dragging my ass out of bed at 5 o'clock, fitting my makeshift rain cover over the willy, and getting a quick cup of Johnny's coffee (grimy and coarse, as usual) before hitting the road. The constant patter of water hitting the road filled my ears, and slightly illuminated sky revealed an incessant downpour of water. Despite the cover, the seat of the vehicle would almost always get wet after a while, and my pants gradually became a drenched, sticky mass of canvas. With nothing but a wall of oblique, monsoon rain to stare into, my 6 hour patrol began.

After about 4 hours of driving up and down the roads into Kimpo, the fatigue of constantly driving through hellish weather began to show on me. It was a constant battle to keep my eyes on the road and to correct my vehicle every time it began to slide. Besides the occasional supply truck or a random jeep on the side, the road was empty of movement. The only life on these wet, muddy grasslands were the occasional worm squirming its way from one mud patch to another. The monotonous pitter patter of droplets smacking the pavement dulled my already tired mind as the most dangerous part of the patrol began.

The combination of highway hypnosis, misery brought about by damp clothing, the crash from Johnny's shitty coffee, and the never ceasing rain created a mood that was half angry at everything, half depressed by life. It certainly wasn't a rational thought, but it was my natural reaction to the circumstances around me. Mentally, I decided to utterly screw over the next hapless individual I ran into on this accursed patrol.

As if to satiate my uncouth attitude, another set of headlights appeared on the road ahead. I slowed down my vehicle and hit the horn with one hand while I waved the vehicle down with my other. A loud "Honk" rang through the water-clogged air as tires spun and axles groaned. Several tons of metal and rubber slid to a stop on two sides of the asphalt road. The sound of grinding rubber gradually faded into a whimper. then nothing.

Before my vehicle had come to a stop I had jumped out and placed my feet on the wet pavement. As if at some waterpark for children, a bucket's worth of water crashed over my head, drenching me instantly. If I wasn't miserable before, I certainly was now. Grumbling and swearing under the downpour, I trudged over to the slightly opened door of the cargo truck.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, masking my hostile tone with forced curiosity. Despite the sorry state my uniform was in, it still beared the mark of a military policeman.

"My commanding officer asked me to make a supply run." the driver was a female, and sounded quite young at that.

"You got written orders?" I inquired, still withholding my hostility.

She extended a white hand, feminine yet not delicate as one might expect. Her hand had the marks of workmanship, indents, scars not fully healed, and calluses of the kind one would expect from a mechanic. Upon her arm was the light tan uniform of the USAAF, intact yet slightly faded from repeated use. I cannot recall if these details phased my mood in the slightest, for if they did on the inside I made no venture to communicate this as such.

"Unfortunately, miss ….?"

"It's Yeager, but everyone calls me Shirley."

"Miss Yeager, these roads are closed right now. You're going to have to pull over and park here."

"Is that truly necessary?" She asked with an inquisitive tone, which made me angry.

"Either you stay here in the middle of nowhere or you walk back to base! I'm not taking any of your bull missy." I exploded before slamming her door shut.

I stomped my way back to me vehicle, now both angry at myself for the outburst and my constantly degrading situation. As a reached for the door of my vehicle, an engine ignited to life behind me. Turning around sharply, I saw headlights flash and and engines cough as the truck came to life.

"HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE…!" I ran back to the vehicle, screaming at the top of my lungs, before a jet of mud smacked me in the face. After several seconds of squealing tires, the truck took off, leaving me with a face full of water and dirt.

Stopping in my tracks, I watched for a second as the truck flew down the road towards the base before springing back to my own vehicle. After several precious seconds of start up time, I flew down the road after her.

Pressing the accelerator to the floor, my tires whined as they tried to get a grip on the road, throwing up water and mud in the process. When they found their grip, my Willy took off after the driver, now almost out of my field of view. As I continued to accelerate, more water and mud flew from behind my vehicle. If I was in a calmer mood, I would have realized the danger I was in from the hydroplaning, but in the moment I was too pissed off to worry about such a trivial detail. I caught up to the crazy driver relatively quickly, as my jeep was much faster than her 2½ ton truck. What I didn't realize was that Shirley had actually dropped her speed prior to my arrival there.

Once I caught up to her, I tried to get around to her front windowsill and wave her down. While I was trying to pass her, however, she slowed down hard and I ended up several meters in front of her. As a tried to brake and turn back towards her, my tires whirled and spun in the water, having lost their grip on the road. During this time, Shirley switched lanes and accelerated rapidly, as if she was going to ram me.

Seeing as how her truck would win in a collision, I quickly swung my car off of the road before we had a chance to collide. Making such a sharp turn without any friction with the road sent me into an uncontrolled spin as my jeep tore across the muddy fields off the highway. Before I could get my vehicle under control again, it keeled over and buried itself in a ditch. I managed to extract myself from the quagmire just in time to see Shirley drive off to Kimpo. Fuming, I kicked my Willy and started yelling out all manner of obscenity as my shoes sunk into the soft earth.

Amazingly, just as I thought my day couldn't have gotten worse, the rain instantly begun to clear up. Although I didn't notice until after I had thoroughly thrashed the front bumper of my ride, the 5 or so days of rain had finally come to an end. I looked up, and as the clouds cleared the sun rose into the sky.

After spending an hour trying to pull my jeep out of the mud, an army service truck with a crane appeared on the road. Seeing my incredible luck, I ran and managed to wave down the vehicle. With the crane doing the work, my jeep was unearthed in less than 30 minutes. As I chatted with the service man on the way back, he told me that the only reason he came out here at all was because someone told the maintenance crew that they had seen a jeep spin out and bury itself off of the road. Thanking the man, I rolled my Willy back to Kimpo for a repair and a wash off, neglecting to mention just how it got this bashed and muddy.

I couldn't exactly go to the office and tell them that Shirley had tried to ram me with her truck, as I had more or less lied about police regulations in the first place to her. So I kept the incident to myself until the day's shift came to an end.

The only person I talked about this event with was Johnny, who (as expected) laughed his ass off at the thought of me getting outsmarted by a supply truck driver. After a few beers and our fair share of laughs, he told me that he would keep an eye out for this "wannabe racer" and that when he caught her, I would be the first to know.

He never did.


End file.
